Silver Eyes
by The Silver Princess
Summary: **Jan. 7 UPDATED** A/U - The senshi don't know that crybaby Usagi is actually the mysterious woman in black who aids them in their fight against evil
1. Blue Day and Silver Night

Silver Eyes  
  
**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi,   
Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. **   
  
Author's Notes: Konnichiwa. This is the first fanfic I've posted so feel free to   
critique. Remember though, this is an AU and I write Usagi very differently than   
how she originally is (especially the anime version). Don't be surprised if she   
seems to be acting unusual; things will make more sense and get more exciting   
as I go. Please send some feedback or review! Enjoy reading!   
  
Rating: PG  
*******************   
"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."  
~ Proverb ~  
  
  
Silver Eyes   
by: The Silver Princess  
  
Tsukino Usagi hissed in pain as she firmly bandaged her arm. When she   
had finished winding the bandage, she bundled her now unusable blouse up,   
stubbornly ignoring the blooded sleeve, and dropped it into a metal trashcan. She   
flicked her hand, a quick splash of the rubbing alcohol she'd used on her arm   
splattered over the fabric, and then she lit a match and let it drop. The flame   
poofed over the fabric like a bright blossom, eerily lighting her face in the   
otherwise dark room.  
With a tired sigh, Usagi wandered into the living room and collapsed onto   
the couch, taking careful care not to bump her tender arm. With a grumble, she   
flicked the television on and switched to the news, wondering vaguely if they'd   
mention the episode that had resulted in her injured arm.  
Instead, a depressingly bland man appeared, relating the weather   
forecast. She groaned as she saw the high temperatures predicted. With the   
long-sleeved shirt she would have to wear to cover her arm, heat would prove   
miserably inopportune—not to mention the strange looks she would probably get   
from her classmates.  
How had she ended up like this? If her family could only see her now,   
they'd never recognize their laughing, carefree golden child who spilled with   
joyous love. Oh, she was still there, hope and love bubbling around, but events   
had tempered and honed her into the present Usagi who silently mourned the   
lonely love inside.  
Without even meaning to, her eyelids closed and soon she slipped into a   
restless sleep, the flickering light of the television continuing to play over her   
features.  
Morning came to quickly, sunlight slanting into the room and rousing her.   
Usagi yawned and stretched her sore muscles. It probably hadn't been a good   
idea to sleep on the couch after last night's goings-on.  
She sat up, reaching a hand to her head to discover just how tousled her   
hair now was. She grimaced as her fingers found impossible snarls and let her   
hand fall back to her lap. Oops. Another thing to keep in mind. Make sure to   
brush her hair before sleeping.  
She glanced at the clock and grinned. Well, at least she'd have plenty of   
time to untangle it. She staggered into the bathroom and glared at herself in the   
mirror. She looked so…cute. She hated that. Cute. Adorable. Those were words   
that should be reserved for toddlers and puppies—not for use on an eighteen-  
year-old girl taking care of herself without any family. Hadn't she figured out how   
to become self-sufficient and independent? Didn't she have her own apartment   
and pay for her own schooling? Didn't she deserve at least to not look like a   
cuddly, helpless bunny?  
She put her colored contacts in—no prescription—and then glared at the   
reflection. Her eyes were now wide and sparkling sapphire—regular baby-blues   
in every sense of the term. Her nose was pert, her smile wide and ready, and her   
face sweet. Alright, maybe it wasn't that bad, she conceded as she began on her   
hair. She was gorgeous, right down to her shapely figure. If she did look more   
like an innocent angel than a sophisticated model, well, that just helped with her   
masquerade, now didn't it?  
Her hair was a golden riot, a mass of glimmering tresses tumbling to the   
floor in a waterfall. Once the tangles were gone, she deftly wound them up into   
her distinctive hairdo: two buns with long pigtails falling past her knees. She   
examined herself in the mirror. Yup, she looked normal. Well, maybe a little paler   
than usual, but she was already very fair-skinned so it wasn't that noticeable.  
She skimmed through her closet, searching for something that wouldn't be   
too conspicuous on a hot day. She looked longingly at her shelves of other   
clothes but shook herself and turned to the clothes for the life she'd be in today.   
She settled on a light cotton blouse that would cover her arm but wouldn't be too   
warm. A little too pink for her tastes but it fit the persona that she had worked to   
hard to develop and master. A simple white skirt, again to sweet for her,   
completed the outfit.  
Usagi strolled into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and glancing at   
the clock. Jeez, who'd have thought it would be so difficult to be late on purpose?  
She flopped onto the couch and watched the news anchors bubble and   
laugh like wannabe stand-up comics. Just get to the news already. One man   
flashed a toothy smile at his female coanchor's weak joke—she of course had   
the standard short newswoman haircut. Then he turned in his chair to face a   
different camera. "Now in other news," he began earnestly. "Another mysterious   
attack in downtown Tokyo. No fatalities this time; however, there were many   
critically injured. Witnesses have been unclear what happened although many   
claim that the so-called Sailor senshi quote "saved the day." I don't know, Jen.   
What do you think about theses Sailor senshi?" Blah blah blah.  
Usagi switched of the television and their inane chatter. Sailor Senshi. Of   
course there'd been no mention of her, but although that rankled inside, it was for   
the best. It was her secret life and the quieter it was kept the better. Besides,   
what newspaper or station would care about the mysterious girl who no one   
could ever see clearly when you had the spectacular senshi to focus on?  
She gingerly rubbed her arm, her token of last night's battle. Maybe she   
wasn't a senshi, but she knew how to fight, and she knew the difference between   
good and evil. And most importantly, she knew that she could help—did in fact.   
The senshi didn't trust her, but they knew of her existence. She and the   
assistance she provided were invaluable.  
It was her separate life, the life that felt so much realer, more right. It fit her   
better. That was who she really was.  
The clock beeped the time, and Usagi pasted a grin on her face that was   
bright as a kilowatt lightbulb. Time to be late to school. Time to be the whiny   
klutz. Time to be Odango Atama. Time for her other life.  
*****  
"Gomen nasai, Haruna-sensei!" Usagi yelped as she dashed into the   
classroom, panting as hard as she could though she was hardly out of breath.   
She saw a bookbag lying conveniently in the way and purposefully tripped over it.   
The tardy klutz began her well-known wail as the inner-Usagi grimaced at the   
sound with her classmates.  
"Usagi-chan," Mizuno Ami whispered as Usagi slid into her seat. "Are you   
okay? That fall looked very hard."  
Usagi glanced at the blue-haired girl sitting next to her and debated her   
response. "It hurt," she muttered poutily, settling for the middle of the road. It   
wouldn't do to bellyache too much and have her kind-hearted friend insisting she   
go to the school nurse but she couldn't act out of character. In actuality, the fall   
hadn't hurt a bit; she'd been very careful to keep her sore arm from jarring   
against anything.  
Ami nodded and turned her attention back to Haruna-sensei, although she   
didn't have to. Usagi didn't even bother. She had made it a well-known fact that   
she was horrible in school, failing, when actually she was acing everything with   
flying colors. After a careful, guarded conversation with her teacher, Haruna-  
sensei had agreed to play along and even post fake grades for one of her   
brightest pupils. Usagi was still proud of that particular moment of negotiating   
brilliance.  
Inwardly, Usagi shook her head. How could she be the only one to see   
that Ami was Sailor Mercury? The same soft corona of blue hair, the same gentle   
blue eyes, a slighter darker shade than Usagi's. Her delicate features and   
elegant hands that seemed made to dance over a keyboard with graceful ease.   
How could no one else see? Perhaps it was because Usagi was the only non-  
senshi to ever be around them often or for long, she reasoned. After all, there   
must be many geniuses who love to swim and have blue hair, she thought   
sarcastically.  
Lunch came quickly, and by now Usagi's stomach was protesting loudly   
the lack of breakfast. Exactly on schedule. How else could she convince   
everyone she was a ravenous pig who loved food if she didn't wolf down lunch,   
and how else could she devour that daunting amount of food unless she skipped   
breakfast?  
"Mako-chan, thish ish delishush," she gushed with cheeks bulging and   
through an enormous mouthful of sushi.  
Kino Makoto laughed with pride. The tall girl was a muscular tower over   
her other friends with hair like dark chestnut and eyes like green leaves. She was   
intimidating to say the least, although not to her own friends. And she was Sailor   
Jupiter, senshi of lightning and gardens.  
"Jeez, Odango Atama, stop to take a breath, you pig," Hino Rei snapped.  
Usagi swallowed the retort poised on her lips and instead scowled and   
wailed unsuccessfully because of the food still stuffed in her face.  
Rei snorted and flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was like violet silk, so   
dark it was nearly black. Her eyes were a brighter fiery hue of purple, and her   
temper flared just as quickly as fire as well. Put that together with her being a   
Shinto priestess with psychic powers that usually kicked in when she meditated   
before a fire, and you got Sailor Mars.  
The last of their group pushed at Rei. "Don't be so mean to Usagi-chan,"   
Aino Minako scolded. Rounding out the pattern, she was Sailor Venus. After all   
her blond hair, slightly brighter and darker than Usagi's, gave it away. Her blue   
eyes, again darker than the other blond's, sparkled playfully.  
Yes, these were her friends, Sailor senshi all. They all shared a secret that   
did not include her—at least to their knowledge. Sometimes Usagi would debate   
telling them her identity that she was the mysterious woman who helped them.   
But then, one would indicate a secret meeting, and she would think that perhaps   
since they had their secret, she should have hers. Besides, after spending so   
much time becoming Odango Atama, it was difficult to say she wasn't really.  
So the ditzy Odango chatted away with her friends, while inside Usagi   
waited for the night where she could be herself again and help the distrustful   
Sailor senshi.  
*****  
Night stole over Tokyo like a thief. Blackness filled the alleys while the   
streets were filled with artificial neon light, garish and sinister. Tourists, perhaps,   
might like the bright shine of Tokyo nightlife, but Usagi knew better. Night was   
when the youmas came out in full force. Sure, occasionally there were a few   
attacks in the day, but most preferred the forgiving shelter of night where they   
could skulk and ambush. Usagi grinned in a way that was more a baring of teeth.   
Of course, two could play that game.  
She changed into black pants and a black halter-top, sighing gratefully as   
she discarded her daywear. She unpinned her buns, letting her thick cascade of   
fair locks fall to the floor. A long wound braid later and her hair was pinned neatly   
atop her head like a golden crown. It always seemed a little top-heavy at first but   
that improved after a few minutes. This way, at least it was secure, out of the   
way, and unlike Odango Atama's characteristic hairdo.   
With the same feral grin still playing over her features, Usagi bushed on   
makeup that subtly modified her features. Not enough by itself, but when she   
removed the colored contacts that transformed her eyes back to a nearly metallic   
silver, she was not longer the Usagi her friends knew. She still looked like her,   
but more like an older sister with an uncanny familial resemblance. A black mask   
tied over her eyes completed the disguise. So far these precautions and her   
tendency to stay in the shadows had been sufficient to conceal her identity.  
Silver eyes glinted from their frame of black, and she grinned. That faded   
as she glanced down at her arm, wishing she could remove the binding but   
knowing that that would be foolish. Oh, well. It wasn't as though anyone would be   
grading her on fashion.  
Humming happily, she locked her house up and hopped on to her sleek   
black motorcycle. She gunned the engine, loving the sudden roar and the   
mechanical vibrations beneath her. She settling her helmet over her hair and   
head and flipped down the visor. Time to go.  



	2. Warrior in Black

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi,   
Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. **   
  
Author's Notes: Konnichiwa, minna-chan. I hope you like this next chapter.It's a bit   
short but I'm still just getting into the plot. Keep in mind that this is an AU. Oh, and   
for those of you who were wondering: yes, Usagi still is the princess but she's not   
yet part of the group as even a senshi. Hope that clarifies some stuff. Please send   
some feedback or review! Enjoy reading!   
  
Rating: PG  
*******************   
"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."  
~ Proverb ~  
  
  
Silver Eyes   
by: The Silver Princess  
  
The motorcycle purred between her legs like a black leopard racing for the pure   
joy of speed. Usagi smiled softly, letting the serenity that always came with riding her   
bike wash over her like a soothing balm. The streets she traveled over were black and   
deserted except for the occasional beggar or stray cat scrounging in the spilled trash   
piled on the sidewalks. Car alarms wailed in the distance and the occasional breaking of   
glass shattered through the air in a violent crash. It was Tokyo at its hardest, its worst.   
But Usagi's eyes penetrated past the grime and decay and saw only the potential and   
the hope that hid in cracks too small for most people to notice. This urban jungle suited   
her just fine. She was a black blur on a black street, and she couldn't remember another   
instance when she had felt this free and unburdened.  
She let her instincts take control of the direction, knowing that her subconscious   
had never misled her. Soon enough, she heard the screaming, a faint thread floating on   
the stale city air. It was a dissonant note that even in its unremarkable violence pierced   
through the normal city noises with its alien origins.  
She revved the engine and pursued the sound with kindled determination. Fires   
seemed to burn in her metallic silver eyes, and the familiar blend of adrenaline, fear,   
and resolve rose inside her like a crashing wave. The dazzling lights of the senshi's   
magic could already be seen flaring as she parked her motorbike and chained it and her   
helmet securely. Cautiously, she stalked forward, keeping to the shadows. Her booted   
feet were bare whispers on the cracked pavement as though she too were an   
insubstantial scrap of shadow.  
The scene came into view, unfolding like some bizarre fairy-tale gone wrong. Her   
face fell immediately as she assessed the situation. The senshi—her friends, even   
though it was still difficult to imagine them like this—were in severe difficulty. Two   
youmas like black, liquid inkblots had attacked a small concert. Dark, sprawled forms   
were littered on the ground—the victims who had fallen before the senshi had arrived.   
Worse yet, each youma still had an innocent person caught in their grasp, and the   
frustrated senshi could neither attack the demons nor save the people who were slowly   
suffocating in the relentless claws.  
Well, that simply wouldn't do, Usagi decided. She slipped behind the demons and   
watched for her chance. She grinned when it came. Sailor Jupiter, whose patience in   
battle was always chancy, had snapped, her frustrated fury boiling over, and she was   
charging the youma head-on. Electricity unconsciously crackled in bright wreaths   
around her as she ran like a ball of lightning.  
Usagi sprang forward in a frontward flip before leaping high into the air and   
scissoring her leg into a sharp kick. The impact jarred her bones as she connected   
soundly with the youma's neck, making a muffled thud. She grunted softly; she hadn't   
expected its flesh to be so unyielding.  
It howled in rage as she dropped to the ground in a crouch. It spun around to   
face the new opponent just as Jupiter approached. Lightning sizzled in the air, staining it   
with a strange metallic taste, as she released the power, knowing it was useless to use   
while the youma still held a hostage. Usagi snarled and pivoted. Putting the momentum   
of her spin, she lashed out with her legs again. Her kick pounded into its wrist, and   
Usagi was a blur of movement as she darted in to snatch the hostage from its weak   
grasp.  
She heard Sailor Jupiter roaring in victorious delight as she finally vented on the   
youma. From the corner of her eyes, Usagi could see the various hues of magic   
slamming into the youma, ripping it apart like an old black quilt.  
The young boy shivered in her arms, and she looked down at him in sympathy.   
Her heart caught in her throat as emotions she didn't want to identify surged in her. He   
looked so similar to Shingo when he had been younger. Tears blurred in her eyes   
before she angrily swallowed them. "Hey, it's okay now," she managed to say   
reassuringly. "Everything's going to be fine."  
He looked up at her with wide eyes as she set him down, safely hidden beneath   
the stage. "You saved me," he whispered in awe. "Who are you?" Usagi smiled,   
affection lightening her features even though her heart still throbbed—why did he have   
to look so like Shingo? "That's a special secret for now," she informed him. "Why else   
would I wear a mask?"  
"Oh, yeah," he said with dawning understanding. He grinned playfully and   
Usagi's heart jerked. "You're one of those superheroes with secret identities, aren't   
you?"  
She laughed happily at his childish innocence. "In a way," she conceded as she   
tousled his sandy hair warmly.  
"Well, then what's your superhero name? You have to have one," he insisted.  
Usagi paused, taken aback. No one had ever asked her that. "Um, you can call   
me, um..." she trailed off, searching for something appropriate. Well, there was her   
black mask, her golden crown of hair. She nibbled her lip. Somehow, she wanted to be   
more unusual. "Serenity," she said, the word popping out of her mouth almost without   
her realizing. "Serenity," she repeated in a smoother tone even as an embarrassed   
blush crept over her pale cheeks.  
"That's really pretty."  
"Thank you," she grinned. "Now, I've got to go and help out some more okay?   
Stay here until the other youma is defeated."  
He nodded solemnly. "I promise I will."  
"You're a good kid," she blurted out, before turning and running back into the   
fray.  
The other youma was much simpler to take care of. As soon as she kicked its   
wrist, its victim, a grown woman, squirmed her way free without any assistance, and   
then the Sailor senshi attacked.  
Usagi grinned as she watched the final demon disintegrate into a cloud of black   
vapor. People began waking up as their life returned into their bodies. Perhaps it was   
her fear that some wouldn't wake, that some had been too long without life that kept her   
from leaving. Her heart felt bruised in a way she thought she'd taught it not to be. That   
little boy kept popping up in her mind again. So she chose to stay and watch as the   
victims roused themselves instead of fleeing as she out to have.  
"Hey, you!"  
Usagi whipped her head around and saw Sailor Venus, the leader of the senshi,   
jogging towards. "We need to have a talk," she said sternly as she came up to her.  
Usagi paled, praying her disguise would hold, even as Venus frowned and stared   
at her, suspicious confusion growing in those clear blue eyes. "I gotta go," Usagi   
stammered, for once grateful that her real voice was lower and richer than the high-  
pitched wail she normally used.  
She turned, and an arm darted forward catching at her.  
A small sound escaped her lips as that strong hand closed around her injury. She   
slapped Venus away and cradled her arm, clenching her jaw and trying not to scream.   
Supernatural superheroes should learn to control their strength.  
"What happened?" Venus asked remorsefully as the other senshi gathered in a   
circle around Usagi.  
Usagi glared at her with the full power of her metallic silver eyes. "You should   
learn to control your strength," she snapped.  
"I'm sorry," she said defensively. "I just didn't want you running off before we get   
some answers out of you."  
Usagi licked her lips as she slowly turned, taking in the circle trapping her.   
"Again, you could have at least noticed that I have bandaged arm," she pointed out   
reproachfully as her hot anger melted away.  
"How..." Mars began.  
"I got it saving Tuxedo Kamen's too-slow butt last night," Usagi explained,   
anxiously searching for a means of escape. Already, she could feel moisture soaking   
the inner layers of the dressing. Damn, she must have reopened it during the fight and   
not noticed until Venus made it worse. "Or didn't you see that claw that was coming at   
him when someone pushed him out of the way."  
Mars looked taken aback, remorse and anger warring in her expression. "I'm   
sorry," she muttered.  
Usagi immediately regretted her sharp words. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be that   
mean. I just get a little cross when I get hurt."  
"Well, that's understandable," Sailor Mercury piped up in her quiet voice. "And   
speaking of Tuxedo Kamen, where is he?"  
She trailed off as Usagi frowned and turned to the often-overlooked senshi.The   
reason why her fingers were dancing over her handheld computer hit her suddenly.   
"You're trying to figure out who I am!" she accused.  
Red flushed over Mercury's face as Usagi whirled on Venus. "I'm sorry," the   
blond in black apologized sincerely before she struck out with the heel of her palm.   
Venus oomphed back in surprise at the force of her sudden attack. Usagi vaulted over   
the blond senshi's back and sprinted for her motorcycle. Her feet thudded against the   
inky pavement in rhythmic beat, in time to her breathing. In the distance, she could hear   
the clatter of feet racing after her and a boy's voice calling for Serenity to return.  
She fumbled with the chain as the noise of running grew louder. Her fingers   
seemed so clumsy—hurry up, she silently yelled. Finally, the lock opened, and with a   
sigh of relief, she jumped onto her motorcycle. She jammed the helmet over her head,   
gunned the engine, and took off in a cloud of exhaust and leaving the startled Sailor   
senshi in her wake.  
After several minutes, Usagi braked and set her motorcycle into idle. Biting her   
lip, she examined her arm in the dim light cast by the streetlamp. The imllumination   
seemed oily in the polluted air, like grease floating to the top of cheap broth in waxy   
clumps. Still it was all the light she had, and she couldn't wait until she reached her   
home. "Damnit," she swore angrily. "This better not get infected. I'll never be able to   
explain it without giving myself away."  
Suddenly, she stopped, shaking her head. She pressed a hand to her face   
feeling tears dripping down her cheeks. "What's happened to me?" she whispered. She   
tipped her face skyward, letting the gentle moonbeams soak over her features, lighting   
her fair skin as though she herself were glowing. The moon was large and silver, a clear   
disc like pure crystal hanging in the sky, its white purity contrasting so sharply with the   
dirty streets. She trembled like an aspen in the wind as she stared at that cold distant   
moon shining up there. "I'm not…I mean, I don't know. I miss you all so. And I still love   
you. I still love. There is love inside me. Isn't there?" She swiped away her hot tears.   
"There's nothing worse than having so much love when you can't show it, you can't let   
them know." She bent down and wept into her thigh.  
An incongruous noise suddenly whispered at her ears. She frowned and sat up,   
swallowing her tears and grief with practiced ease—too easy that it scared her a little.   
"Hello?" she called uncertainly. "Show yourself!" she demanded in a fearless tone.  
No voices returned her call only a low groan.  
Her frown deepening and a disturbing sense of foreboding growing in the pit of   
her stomach, she rolled her motorcycle closer to the sound.  
Her eyes widened behind her mask as she recognized a huddled form moaning   
by the side of the street. "What the hell?" she exclaimed in shock.  
  
**More to come next week with the plotline finally starting to get going:-)**  



	3. Serenity-hime

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi,   
Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. **   
  
Author's Notes: Konnichiwa, minna-chan. I hope you like this chapter. Always   
remember that this is an AU. Please send some feedback or review! Enjoy   
reading!   
  
Rating: PG  
*******************   
"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."  
~ Proverb ~  
  
  
Silver Eyes   
by: The Silver Princess  
  
  
The night seemed oddly quiet: no yells, no screech of tires, no honk of   
horns. Just eerie silence. The figure moaned again, jerking Usagi from her shock.   
She quickly dismounted her motorcycle and knelt by the figure. Moonlight   
puddled around them, conveniently providing clean light as she tried to work out   
what had happened. Fear rose in her throat as she realized that the darkness   
that covered him wasn't just fabric but also blood.  
  
"Tuxedo Kamen?" Usagi murmured softly as she lightly touched his   
shoulder, praying that she wouldn't hurt him. He groaned and she quickly jerked   
her hand away as he curled into a tighter ball.  
  
She bit her lip uncertainly. She certainly couldn't leave him like this, but   
that would mean being in his company for an extended period of time and in   
close proximity. An ambulance? No, there was his disguise to think of as well.   
She shook her head decsively, banishing her selfish thoughts. She couldn't leave   
him.  
  
"Come on, Mamoru-san," she whispered, hoping that his more familiar   
name would be more comforting to him. It seemed to work because he seemed a   
lot more cooperative as she settled him on her motorcycle. Her hands ended up   
in some awkward places as she tried not to aggravate his injuries further, and a   
hot, red blush settled over her face even though he was practically insensible.   
Finally she had him as secure as she could manage with her arms wrapped   
tightly around his torso and her chin resting on his shoulder so that she could   
see. She put her bike in gear. "Let's hope I remember where your apartment is,   
since we certainly can't go to my place," she said lightly as she roared down the   
dark streets.  
  
It was awkward holding him in her arms and steering at the same time,   
and she had to use all her abilities to keep him intact. She was just going by her   
school when her stomach jolted into her throat. He had passed out in her arms.   
She clenched her jaw, muttered a quick prayer, and floored the gas. Her tires   
protested at the sudden acceleration, and the streets soon became a passing   
blur as her bike shot into the night.  
  
Usagi had been nervous that someone would notice a masked girl in a   
black halter top toting a masked man in tuxedo up the flights of his apartment   
building, but the place seemed deserted. Her anxiety jumped a notch as she   
picked his lock—that would be impossible to talk her way out of—and only when   
they both were safely inside did she relax.  
  
"Alright, Mamoru-san," she muttered as she settled his prone form on his   
couch. "Let's get you taken care of and then figure out what on earth happened   
to you." She grunted. "It's a good thing I'm stronger than I look."  
  
His apartment was neurotically clean, everything exactly positioned and   
meticulously spotless. Polished glass table supported picture-perfect vases of   
rainbow-colored rose bouquets. Even the tiny trashcan looked tidy. Usagi winced   
when she realized the amount of dirt that she was tracingd over his carpet as she   
rummaged through his cabinets. She grinned in delight and fished out a fully-  
stocked first-aid kit.  
  
"Please don't jump to the wrong conclusions, okay?" she told the   
unconscious man as she removed his shirt. She winced at the red slashes   
across his chest—a chest that she reluctantly admitted was very tan and   
muscular.  
  
She stitched up the deeper wounds with a steady hand and then   
disinfected each one. He muttered and fidgeted as she dabbed on the stinging   
solution but she soothed him by putting her hand to his forehead and whispering   
reassuringly.  
  
With a sigh, she studied his face in a way she'd never had the chance   
before. He really was a handsome man and only two years older than she was.   
She laughed at herself when she realized the direction her thoughts were   
heading. It could never happen. Talk about a doomed relationship. The Usagi he   
knew was one that he teased and was mean to constantly. As for—what had she   
told the boy to call her?—Serenity, well, that would be just asking for trouble.  
  
Still, she could have her silly dreams. She brushed her fingers through his   
locks of ebony hair, feeling them slide across her fingertips like silk. He was so   
handsome, she thought again with a tinge of embarrassment. She wished she   
knew what it would be like to see those stormcloud blue-gray eyes gaze at her   
with something besides disdain. Although, to be honest with herself—and she   
always tried to be—that was part of the reason she liked him so much; he never   
put up with the antics she pulled as Odango Atama the way others did, yet even   
then he could still be so sweet at times. His teasing only held dislike not hate,   
and he always was willing to help her when she truly needed it. He seemed so   
right for her night self, Serenity.  
  
She brushed her fingertips over his lips a little too longingly. "If only—" she   
began wistfully  
  
"What!" he suddenly screeched, his eyes popping wide open.  
  
Usagi recoiled in shock. "You're awake!" she yelped.  
  
He groaned, relaxing back onto the couch. "Who are you?"  
  
Usagi blinked, her mind frozen. Why were his hands clutching hers? When   
had they gotten there?  
  
"Silver eyes…you're that woman, aren't you? The one who's always   
helping us?" he realized, seemingly oblivious to the problems his hands seemed   
to be causing her.  
  
"Yeah, I am," she finally said with a soft smile. Good, her voice worked  
  
"Thanks for last night," he murmured groggily. "Sorry 'bout your arm."  
  
"That's alright," she said embarrassedly. She worked her hands free of his   
and reached over to the table to place a cool cloth on his forehead. He smiled his   
appreciation as his eyes cleared.  
  
"Are we in my apartment?" he asked incredulously.  
  
"Yes, Mamoru-san," she admitted, figuring that if he realized she knew his   
address she must know him.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "You know who I am," he observed.  
  
She nodded. "But I'm not telling you who I am," she interjected quickly,   
seeing the question forming on his lips.  
  
He conceded, too drained from his injuries to argue. His hands explored   
his stitched and bandaged chest. "That's another I owe you," he said with a bright   
smile just for her.  
  
Usagi hid the pleasure that that smile elicited in her. "Just tell me what   
happened," she said gently as she sat on the floor by his head.  
  
He sighed. "I was on my way to fight with the senshi when I was   
ambushed. That's all there is to tell. I don't know anything else, though you could   
bet your last yen I'd kill to figure it out."  
  
"So would I," she murmured to herself. "I have to go," she said in a louder   
voice as she stood up.  
  
"Wait—"  
  
"No," she said sharply, hating herself as she did. "I really do have to go."   
She reached his door, her fingers grazed the doorknob, but she couldn't bring   
herself to open the door. She glanced back over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I   
do."  
  
He nodded slightly and closed his eyes. "At least tell me your name," he   
insisted.  
  
"Which one?" she asked teasingly.  
  
"What—"  
  
"Just," she interjected as she noticed he was trying to move to look at her.   
"Just call me Serenity."  
  
Barely after she finished saying that, Usagi quickly opened the door and   
was halfway out before she could change her mind. Behind her, she heard him   
inhale sharply. "Serenity-hime!" he called, his voice layered of conflicting   
emotions.  
  
Something in that tone shuddered its way inside her, knocking her about   
before finding a niche in her mind that just said 'important.' Her stomach lurched   
and her breathing became unreliable as she shut the door and then leaned   
against it. Serenity-hime? Who was that? He sounded as though he knew her,   
but then…why would he think that she was this royal person? Come to think of it,   
how would Mamoru know royalty?   
  
She frowned in confusion as she stepped into the elevator. Her finger   
hovered around the button but she didn't push it. Each step was bringing her   
closer to day it seemed. She shook her head as she glanced down at her watch.   
Sunrise would be approaching, and she needed to get home no matter how   
reluctant she felt about it. The elevator dinged closed as she pushed the button   
for the ground floor, and it carried her away from Mamoru who was also Tuxedo   
Kamen—both of whom she was in love with.  
  
Tokyo was a nonexistent haze to Usagi as she rode back home in a daze.   
Why was this Serenity thing bothering her so much? The hope, surprise, the   
disbelief, the suspicion—all of the feeling in his voice seemed to echo inside her,   
stubbornly refusing to fade away into forgetfulness. What had made her choose   
that name?  
  
She arrived home just as sunrise did. The sun leaked over the horizon,   
struggling with the purpling sky. Tendrils of pink and gold inched their way   
outward, staining the sky with delicate colors. For one instant, Tokyo was lit with   
a light that gilded it a beautiful gold and changed it from what it was to a fairy-tale   
maybe utopia. Usagi's eyes reflected the golden light, turning silver into farseeing   
colorlessness. In that instant, life vanished for her, and she felt as though she   
were breathing in time with the earth and the sky and the universe. Then the sun   
began to burn the colors into a pale blue, and the effect vanished like sleep from   
a bed. Emptiness filled her, and she unlocked the door, staggered inside and   
collapsed wearily.  
  
The few hours that she spent sleeping were restless and filled with   
fragmented dreams. A faceless Serenity wandered in Usagi's head like a lost   
butterfly—though how she knew that the ambiguous figure was called Serenity   
she did not know. There was blood, there was screaming, there was kissing,   
there were roses, and there was Usagi, trapped in the center and desperate for   
something solid to cling to. Images ran together like a streams becoming one   
gushing jumble of disjointed thoughts.  
  
She woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. The last images faded from   
her muzzy mind even as she tried to recall them. The two Serenity's—herself and   
another—seemed to combine her mind only to fragment apart again. She   
squeezed her eyes shut, trying to send it all away. Just get rid of it. There were   
so many emotions bumping around in her, like flotsam on a turbulent sea. She   
pressed shuddering hands over her face, trying to escape from herself.   
Everything in her was fighting itself, in conflict. What was happening? Who was   
she? And most importantly: Why?  
  
A clock rang the time in another room, jolting her from her thoughts. She   
frowned suddenly as she removed her hands from her face. What was she   
doing? This wasn't her. She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling with   
decisiveness. This strangeness wasn't going to get to her; she would get to it.   
She was going to find out whatever she could. She was going to take control of   
the situation and discover just who Serenity-hime was.  
  
Usagi stood up, fierce anticipation coursing through her. Purpose filled   
her—a direction in her life she hadn't realized she'd wanted until now. She smiled   
and dressed herself in her clothes for the day.  
  
Her grin widened at a sudden thought; in order to get information,   
somehow she was going to have to get back in touch with Mamoru. Her silver   
eyes twinkled merrily before she went to the bathroom to put in her contact   
lenses.  



	4. At the Arcade

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. ** 

Author's Notes: Konnichiwa, minna-chan. I hope you like this next chapter. Sorry for the delay in posting. Remember that this is an AU. Please send some feedback or review! I love getting your comments, and I will consider any suggestions that you have. After all, I am writing this for you, and I do want you to like it. This chapter is more of a transitional to move the plot along: less action this time. Enjoy reading! 

Rating: PG

******************* 

"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."

~ Proverb ~

Silver Eyes

by: The Silver Princess

Usagi dashed down the sidewalk, narrowly dodging several unsuspecting pedestrians with ease. Her golden pigtails fanned out behind her like fluttering ribbons, yellow as butter in the noonday sunshine, and her legs leapt across the cement, the balls of her feet barely touching against the surface. Momentarily losing herself in the adrenaline rush, she lowered her head and pumped her arms. The fabric of her skirt stuck against her thighs as her legs stretched forward with perfect form, and she imagined herself racing in a track meet, striving for that final burst of speed. Air blew on her face, gliding over her cheekbones and whistling into her ears, and the sun's heat pounded down on the nape of her neck.

Her eyes picked out the arcade's sign, and she immediately wrenched herself back to reason. The expertise of her stride and form degenerated and changed into the headlong, madcap barrel that she was known for—not the expert sprint she had foolishly allowed herself.

She bounced through the automatic doors, the ends of her flapping pigtails barely clearing them as they slid shut with a faint _shloop_. The joyful noises of the arcade surrounded her: the various pitches of beeping, the cheesy theme songs, the ring of bells, the excited laughter of children, and the loquacious babble of teenagers. Multicolored lights flashed and blinked around her as she headed towards the soda-counter.

"Konnichiwa, Motoki-san!" she bubbled cheerily. She settled on the stool and grinned widely as the sandy-haired man waved, excused himself, and headed towards her.

"Hey, Usagi-chan!" Motoki said. "What'll you have?"

"Cherry soda," Usagi answered promptly.

"Might've guessed," he said as he pulled out a glass from beneath the counter. "So where were you yesterday, imouto?" he asked curiously as he poured the soda into the glass. Multitudes of tiny bubbles zipped upward through the reddish drink, some attaching to the sides of the glass, and a layer of frothy foam formed until it threatened to overflow the rim. "You usually stop by after school," he added and gave her a pointed look as he put the soda away.

Usagi shrugged as he handed her the glass of soda. "Detention," she lied, falling back on the simplest and most expected excuse. She sipped her soda, the carbonation fizzing deliciously on her tongue. "Niisan?" she piped up suddenly. "Has Mamoru been by today?"

His green eyes twinkled humorously as he quirked an eyebrow at her. "No, Mamoru hasn't been by…yet."

Usagi nodded and spun on her stool to scan the arcade. Her hands were growing cold, wrapped around the glass, but she refused to turn to set it down because she could feel Motoki's presence at her back. She glanced down, looking through the soda to see her fingertips pressed against the glass, strangely distorted and discolored by the soda.

"Imouto," he spoke softly. "Why don't you just tell him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied stiffly.

"Usagi-chan, you're like a little sister to me, and I notice how you act. I'm probably the only one you let see you this way, so don't worry, it's definitely not obvious to anyone else."

"Motoki," she said warningly as she finally spun around to glare at him. Her eyes locked with his green ones.

"Aaaiii!" she yelped suddenly as someone gave her right pigtail a sharp tug. She whirled on her assailant. "Mamoru-baka!" she screeched. "Why do you have to be so annoying?"

"Well, Odango Atama—"

"Don't call me that!" she shrieked, going red in the face. She stood up, frowning upwards at him and crossing her arms.

"Well, Odango Atama," he continued coolly as he lounged against the counter, completely uncaring of the venomous glares she was sending. "What test have you failed recently?"

"Baka!" she accused stridently, uncrossing her arms. Heads turned to look at her, and she blushed furiously.

"Usagi-chan!" Ami's voice suddenly cut in as the blue-haired girl stepped between them. "Stop making scene," she ordered, laying a calming hand on Usagi's arm.

Usagi stuck her tongue out at Mamoru and then turned sulkily to join her friends at the table. They must have arrived just as Mamoru had.

The day seemed destined to be a failure. She spent hours chatting with her friends, fighting with Rei, and pigging down food, but despite her keen observation, she did not catch a single signal for a senshi meeting passing between the girls and Mamoru—who also chose to hang around them.

"Aaii!" Rei exclaimed suddenly. Usagi jumped and knocked over Makoto's soda with her elbow. Though she hated to waste Mako-chan's money, that had been just too perfectly positioned to pass up.

"Gomen nasai," she muttered apologetically as she yanked several napkins from the dispenser.

Rei stood up as though nothing had happened and haughtily flicked a strand of dark silk hair over her shoulder as she gave Usagi a disdainful glance. "It's nearly six-thirty," she announced in a cool, collected voice. "I promised Grandpa I'd be home for dinner tonight."

The other girls immediately clamored that they too had pressing engagements, and as they stood up, they exclaimed their thanks for reminding them.

"Hey!" Usagi wailed on cue. "What about me?!"

"What about you, Odango?" Mamoru's voice drawled near her ear.

She yelped, her fists clenching in her lap as she reminded herself not to leap into the fighting stance that she instinctively wanted to do when she was startled. She twisted in her seat to face him. "Baka!" she snapped. "Just because you're happy with being a friendless grouch, doesn't mean that everyone likes that. _I _happen to like having company!"

"Well, then why don't I keep you company? That way we both win. You get some company, and I get to spend one measly minute of my life with you when this friendless grouch could be going out with a very attractive date," he quipped.

Usagi's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she stuck out her tongue before she harrumphed and stormed away from the table. She waved goodbye to Motoki as she stomped through the sliding doors and out onto the streets, bustling with people making their way home from work.

"Hello there again," a familiar, smoky voice drawled again. A lanky arm draped over her.

Usagi's stomach did a somersault as she wriggled her way free and glared at the newcomer. She clenched her fists spasmodically.

"What are you doing here?!" she screamed, stamping her feet angrily, the impact of her shoes on the cement vibrated its way through her shinbones.

His lips quirked in a half-amused, half-annoyed grin. "You shouldn't be out on the streets alone this late," he explained with a shrug.

She screamed, she ranted, she pouted, but to no avail. He simply refused to leave her alone. Every excuse she came up with he countered easily. What about the date? A lie. What if a hurt you? That's doubtful. What if I run away? Again, doubtful. What if I scream hentai? You wouldn't; you're too nice.

That silenced her, and she finally began trudging back towards her home, Mamoru's presence warm at her side. Secretly, she was pleased, but outwardly, she glowered.

The shadows grew steadily darker as the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon. Tokyo's streets emptied of its citizens and refilled with the tourists who congregated around the brightly lit shops and gawped at some of the more singular wares. 

Usagi purposefully dragged her trip home out as long as possible often letting herself become distracted by a pastry shop. Mamoru tolerated her childish behavior, even seemed to enjoy it, and Usagi felt herself relaxing her guard. She knew it was happening; yet, she couldn't seem to stop herself. Their hostile bickering turned to friendly banter and even occasionally kindnesses, and she found herself wishing that it could always be like this.

But eventually, she could not prolong it any longer, and she led him to her apartment building. "Well, this is it," she said with a grin.

He arched his eyebrow. "Your parents have sophisticated taste," he commented as he looked over the skyscraper. "This is a pricey building."

She scuffled her feet and shrugged. "Yeah, well," she murmured ambiguously as she struggled to hide the pang on pain his offhand remark had produced.

"This was fun. I'll see you around, Odango," he added.

"Baka, don't call me that," she retorted, even as a tiny smile played around her lips.

She was never certain what caused him to turn around and peer at her, confusion and suspicion lighting in his blue-gray eyes like sunlight in water. Perhaps it was her tone of voice, her mature reaction to the hated nickname, or her newly discovered affability towards him. Or maybe, she had simply let her guard down and some of the nighttime Serenity had shown through the cracks. Either way, he turned, he stared, and he nearly spoke.

Her stomach clenched, and she whirled from his probing eyes. The curb: there was her opportunity. In two steps, she hit the curb and went tumbling over it in a seemingly uncontrolled klutz attack. Her frightened screech turned into an ear-splitting wail as she sat up. She bawled and howled, fat teardrops rolling down her cheeks and clung to her eyelashes. The dangerous moment was broken, and Mamoru rolled his eyes. 

"Klutzy Odango," he teased as he gave her a hand up.

She sniffled, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt—eeww, she thought inwardly—and glared daggers at him.

"Jeez, with these klutz attacks," he began before pausing and searching for the right words. "You could kill someone," he finished.

His words ricocheted inside her, and her normally calm mind exploded in a gibbering cry that she could not control. Usagi immediately froze, brittleness filling her inside, like sharp crystals of ice ready to shatter if she moved. _Kill someone_, his laughing voice echoed inside her skull. She gasped in a shaky breath, suddenly feeling so fragile and breakable. _Kill someone_. She knew her face was drained of color; she knew he was looking at her strangely, wondering about this sudden change of demeanor that had outwardly come out of nowhere, but her mind was too busy holding off memories to care.

She blurted some excuse and darted away. The elevator did not move fast enough as she paced inside the small space like a caged animal. Ding. Ding. Each ding of each floor threatened to drive her mad, and still she paced, her arms wrapped tight around her body, her face white as a corpse's. She pressed her lips together as her eyes burned with dryness. She paced, and the carpet muffled her steps. Ding. Ding. So quickly. A life can change in the time between two heartbeats. One minute smiles, another instant…this. Ding. Ding.

Finally, the elevator reached her floor, and she bolted through the doors even before they finished opening. She fumbled for the key, her fingers fumbled for the knob. Why couldn't she stop fumbling?

Her door opened so suddenly that she nearly fell inside. Regaining her balance, she slammed it shut, locked it and dashed to her bathroom. She stripped off her clothes and twisted on the shower.

Only when she was safe under the pounding hot water did she collapse bonelessly to the ground. Burying her face in her arms, she finally let herself cry. Not the wails that she faked for her friends, not even the despairing bursts she sometimes allowed herself in private. No, this was weeping that wracked her entire body and poured out her entire heart; it was like bleeding. She only let herself cry like this when she was in the shower, when the scalding water could spill over her face until her tears and the running water were indistinguishable. She didn't weep like this and for this long unless she had the shelter of the shower.

Why did she have to fall apart like this? She prided herself on her independence, her self-sufficiency, and yet, one comment could create a complete change in her, and she was left so helpless and vulnerable. This was something she couldn't fight, and that frightened her.

As the steaming hot water pounded on the back of her head and as the drain tugged at her long hair, she gave in and let the memories wash over her, carrying her back only a few, mere years. 

**Next week: the mystery behind Usagi's lack of family**


	5. Memories Inside

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. ** 

Author's Notes: Konnichiwa, minna-chan. I hope you like this next chapter. Sorry for the delay in posting. Remember that this is an AU. Please send some feedback or review! I love getting your comments, and I will consider any suggestions that you have. After all, I am writing this for you, and I do want you to like it. Also, don't be confused; this chapter is essentially a flashback. Enjoy reading! 

Rating: PG-13

******************* 

"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."

~ Proverb ~

Silver Eyes

by: The Silver Princess

The memories burst inside Usagi like a lanced infection, relentless and virulent. Why did people always say that these things got better with time? They never did. Even now, two years later, the memories were too fresh, too hurtful. Time had not eased the pain; it had only exacerbated it. The further away the event, the more real and inescapable it became.

The day was hot and blue. The clouds had fled from the sky, and the sun burned fierily through the maze of concrete that was Tokyo. The streets teemed with people, businessmen stoically headed towards the office, teenagers laughing and wandering, tourists gawking and studying maps.

Usagi was dazzled by the bustle of the city; she did not yet see the seething darkness and corruption screened behind the thin veneer of sophistication. Her silver eyes danced as she drank in the sights, the sounds, even the smell. This was where she would attend school. In this magical city, this was where she would live. After all the cajoling and discussing, she'd convinced her family to accept the school's insistent pursuit of her, and they were moving out of the countryside and to Tokyo. Anticipation and hope raced through her. She wanted to shout for joy. Nothing could possibly go wrong. The world was simply too perfect for words.

"Shingo!" she yelled suddenly. "Get back here!"

"What!" he scowled as she yanked him by the arm.

"Baka!" she snapped. "You have to be more careful here. The cars probably won't stop in time; they go faster here."

Wrenching himself from her grip, Shingo stuck his tongue out at her, yanked her long braid, and scampered away. She shook her head. "That was mature," she muttered as she rubbed her scalp.

"So, Usagi," her mother asked as she reached her daughter. "Are you still sure you want to attend school here? That means transferring in the middle of your high school years."

"I'm positive," she declared emphatically. "I definitely want to come here."

Those were to be the last words that the Usagi of then would speak. She wanted this; she wanted Tokyo. She would have them, but by then, everything would be different.

Not realizing this however, she paused on the sidewalk and turned to gaze into a shop window.

"Sweetie?" came a questioning voice.

"Just look at it, Dad," she whispered reverently. "Isn't it wonderful?"

He laughed as he settled his hand on her shoulder. "You have a one track mind, don't you?" he said, with a hint of pride running through his deep voice. "I suppose you'll be joining the martial arts club at your new school."

She turned her head to grin at him. "Of course."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and began walking to catch up with Usagi's mother.

She turned her head to gaze at the katana in the window. Wonderful, simply wonderful. The blade was two and half feet long, gracefully curved and tipped with a narrow, sharp angle. The polished metal gleamed like silver fire, and magnificent designs and engravings adorned the hilt and ran down the length of the blade. It was a katana, the most revered and expert blade that a hand could wield, and she yearned to know that feeling of its handle gripped in her fingers. At the time, she didn't realize the reality of combat; she only saw the beautiful curve of the katana, and she only knew the exhilarating, empowering thrill of an expert kick and chop.

She pressed her hands to the window, wondering if her parents would mind her ducking inside the shop for a moment. The last image of her hands with her perfectly manicured fingernails lying over the glass, partially covering the gleaming arc of the blade would remain frozen with her forever.

She felt something before there was physical reason to. It was as though some movement twitched in the dark corner of her mind; some unexplained sense that spoke something she couldn't at that time understand. Her skin prickled, and a shiver ran down her spine. Her jubilation melted away, replaced by an unsettling dread, a knowledge that she didn't want to look at even if she could decipher it. She let her breath out slowly.

It didn't happen suddenly. There was no unexpected bang, no explosion of screams. Instead, there was a brief chilling instant of wordless breathing, a mutual, synchronized gasp. In that silent second, individuals in a crowd transformed into a panicky, mindless herd, and Usagi somehow knew what was happening. Her strange premonition crystallized into full-fledged terror.

Screams pierced through the air. The noise of yelling and crying mixed with the stampede of feet with nowhere to go. The air turned hotter and wetter with the pants of panicky lungs. Usagi yelled in vain, as she searched for anyone in her family. How could they have been separated so quickly?

The mob surged back and forth without really going anywhere, flowing, splitting, and then reforming like a mass of cells not humans. Usagi shrieked as she found herself picked up by the momentum and helplessly carried along. The pressure of bodies was suffocating, and she was terrified that she would fall and be trampled in the unnoticing horde.

Everything became a series of flashes. A glimpse of a red-faced, mustached man. A scrap of child wailing for its mother. Glimpses that lasted mere seconds as Usagi was buffeted about like a piece of flotsam on the tide. And through it all ran the communal sense of evil. That's when the shooting started. People screamed as bullets rained through the air and tore through the masses of compacted bodies. Guns flashed, and acrid smoke curled as their wielders cried of the apocalypse, of the need to cleanse the world of sinners.

Usagi cried out and her knees nearly buckled as a bullet grazed her forehead. A body fell against her, floppy and heavy like a slab of raw meat, its weight bearing her to the ground. Feet smashed against her hands, grinding into her fingerbones as she futilely tried to pick herself up. Blood was steaming in the air like a red mist, tiny droplets interspersed with clumps of bloody flesh. Screams, demons, bullets. Blood. She could see blood, smell it, taste it. She gagged even as she gasped in more air and more blood. The bullets continued to smash through soft flesh.

Tears ran from her eyes unnoticed as she struggled under the suffocating weight of the growing pile of bodies. She gritted her teeth and muttered a silent apology to the people's spirits. Then she started lashing out with her fists and elbows, shoving and pushing away both the dead, the injured, and soon as she crawled to her feet, the living mob. The sound of fists connecting with yielding tissue vibrated vilely inside her, but she refused to give in. The people barely fell back, but it was enough, and she managed to squirm her way to the outskirts of the mob. Finally, she paused, panting and leaning against the wall of the alley.

She yelped suddenly as a stray bullet ricocheted into the brick above her head, showering her with dirt and rubble. She coughed and choked, then ducked further into the dark alleyway.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shuddering. She was so scared; Not of dying—that barely earned a second thought—but terrified for her family. They were out there somewhere with the bullets and the…whatever…that had started the riot. They were lost out there without the slightest benefit of even knowing how to throw a punch.

Suddenly, Usagi's neck prickled as that strange prescient feeling washed over her like a drenching wave of ice water, and she understood the over-used cliché of blood running cold. It was as though her veins had frozen and frost had coated the walls of her arteries. Why wasn't the mob fleeing? Why were they staying here despite the danger? 

She knew; somehow, she knew. Horror gnawing in her gut, she slowly turned around and peered into the dark alleyway. A bullet whizzed unnoticed over her head, thudding into some fleshly shape, but there was no cry, no gasp, just a thudding of a foot stepping forward. Her stomach quivered inside her belly as she discerned the shape looming in the blackness.

The beast, the monster, the demon. It was every childhood nightmare embodied in a hulking, clawing creature. Its hide was a scaly snakeskin texture and such a dark color that it swallowed all the light near it like a black hole. It loomed ten feet high, and its teeth gleamed like daggers. It stepped forward menacingly, its dinosaur-like feet clacking on the pavement. Its red eyes glowed with evil light as alien energy swarmed around it like a cloud of insects.

Usagi screamed. She could not help it.

"Usagi!" a voice suddenly shouted.

Her head whipped around as panic roared up inside her with full force.

"Shingo, NO!" she screamed, her voice raw with emotion.

Her little brother barreled into the alleyway, intent on protecting his sister. His eyes glinted with fear and determination, and his legs pumped like pistons as he rushed towards the demon.

Usagi sprang into action, leaping forward and snatching at the scruff of his shirt. She heard his sputtering choke as she yanked him backwards and away from the demon. She dragged him out of the alleyway.

"Don't you EVER scare me like that!" she bellowed with tears glistening in her eyes.

"Usagi—"

"Shingo, please just listen to me," she interrupted. "I want you to stay right here. Don't go anywhere. I'll be fine; just stay here and be safe."

"But—"

"No! I can take care of myself, you know," she said firmly, pointing her finger in his face.

He scowled resentfully and then reluctantly nodded, his mop of sandy hair flopping into his eyes as he did. "Be careful," he muttered, sullen now that he was out of the demon's direct path and now that his sister—of all people—had ordered him to stay there.

Usagi turned, shakily tensing herself for her first real life-and-death battle. She had trained, she had practiced, she had worked her butt off, and now here was the ultimate test to pass. She clenched her fists, single-mindedly focusing on the direct matter at hand; a focus that let her put aside all other worries. The mob, her parents, they all slipped to the foreground now that she had a vital purpose. Her silver eyes glinted dangerously like a feline hunter's as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Bang!

A gunshot shattered her hearing, dangerously close. Her hands flew to her ears as she dropped low to the ground. Prescience guided her to turn around, and she screamed again. Her throat protested this overuse, but the scream could not stop. She would physically wrench it from her airless lungs if she had to, if it would only allow her to remain in this first gut-reaction and not have to continue with this unbearable path of time.

She crawled to her brother's fallen form and gingerly settled his head onto her lap. Tears dripped onto his face, cleaning streaks in the dirt that smeared his cheeks. Blood leaked at the edge of his lips, but she futilely tried to staunch the bleeding in his chest.

"I stayed. I kept my promise," Shingo gurgled laboriously through his blood-corrupted lungs. 

Grief-stricken, Usagi sobbed, shaking her head convulsively, negating everything around her. Her fingers pressed against his chest, and the blood was slick and berry-red, squishing out from beneath her palms. It was a gaping, dark hole, a damn hole heartlessly blown through her brother's chest. Would he have been shot if she hadn't ordered him to stay there?

His young body arched against her hands as a shudder trembled through his limbs. Then his brown eyes darkened, and his face went slack. The blood oozed to a halt.

Usagi keened as she bent over her brother's dead body. She'd killed him. She had murdered her own baby brother. He was dead, and it was her fault. The blood on her hands was there for a reason.

She cried until her throat was swollen with tears and her nose was blocked. She cried until there was no more wetness to be wrung from her eyes. Then as she gasped in air, she hesitantly disengaged herself from the rapidly cooling corpse, carefully arranging him on the ground. She reached up and closed his lifeless eyes, and then gave a strangled sob as she realized that she had just streaked his own lifeblood over his face.

She stood up with eyes dead and dully gray. Her face was devoid of expression. Her head turned slowly to gaze at the shop window.

Smash!

Her foot shattered the glass into a million sparkling shards, tinkling to the concrete and some into the display. Her hand reached forward and the hilt of the deadly katana slid into her grip as though it had been fashioned specially for her. She withdrew her arm and the blade whistled a deadly song as she whipped it through the air. She had vengeance to wreak.

She knew the man who had shot her brother. She had caught a quick glimpse of him disappearing into the crowd before. His chiseled face, his bushy red hair, his wide eyes and high eyebrows. His features were embedded indelibly in her mind like a smoking brand.

Her keen, vengeful eyes caught sight of him quickly, his distinctive red hair bobbing very near her.

Powerful kicks and punches, and then the path was cleared for her.

Time slowed inside her mind like the dripping of molasses. He turned, his face confused. His hand raised the gun, pointing the barrel wildly in her direction. His jaw moved as though he were about to yell something.

The katana plunged smoothly into his abdomen as Usagi rammed the blade into him, using the force of her body to give it strength, bringing her nose to nose with the murderer. She locked eyes with his dark hazel ones as she jerked the blade up through his ribcage, and he shuddered, going limp and sagging downwards. Their eyes never broke contact as she mercilessly stared down at the corpse. It was a much more personal slaying than one with a gun, and she could still feel the feeling of piercing the katana through his soft belly and slicing through his ribs with that grating, unyielding sensation.

The katana fell from numb, limp fingers with a clatter as she stumbled away and retched everything from her stomach.

Everything settled into a curious gray haze after that. The only clear memory came in the aftermath, after the demons—there had been more than one—had departed, glowing with stolen life energy.

Her parents had died as well, victims to the greedy drain of the creatures. She was all alone. She recalled sitting on the hospital bed several hours later, rocking back and forth, trying to retreat inside her mind and to build up walls to protect her fragile heart.

Someone, possibly a social worker or psychiatrist, stopped by, trying to contact Usagi despite her blank-eyed departure. The woman eventually gave up and stood, pulling aside a doctor and relating a diagnosis.

Inside, Usagi perked up and listened.

"I don't know what to tell you," the woman said grimly. "She's in shock, and she's grieving. The girl has simply withdrawn into her own mind for comfort and protection. From the information we have, we've learned that she's sixteen." She sighed, glancing at the girl still rocking back and forth. "Her age and her condition is going to make it remarkably difficult, maybe impossible to find a foster family that can provide proper care."

It was like getting a hard slap in the face, and Usagi flinched. "No!" she screeched.

The doctors started and turned towards her.

Usagi bowed her head. "Gomen nasai," she apologized in a calmer voice. "But I do not wish to be placed in foster care. I can take care of myself." She looked up, gazing at the two people, baring her soul for them.

It had taken nearly two months to arrange Usagi's autonomy. The insurance had provided her with a healthy sum of money, and thanks to some clever business maneuvering, she managed to turn that amount into solid, prosperous investments in various stocks and business backings.

Her life remained dead and empty for another month. She lived life like a robot, going through all the motions and routines. She kept on breathing, her heart kept on beating, but for all purposes, she was like a coma patient. Life was a vast stretch of time without any landmarks except blood and guilt.

Until she heard of another attack, similar to the one that had claimed her entire family and her innocence. This time, however, there was a mysterious girl who had saved the day and cut back casualties to a minimum. 

And suddenly, life began again like a videotape just unpaused. She created a new Usagi for the day and became a new woman in the night. Her innocence may have been burned away, but her heart remained good, and so she did good. Her memories shuffled into the background, always a kindling of fire but no longer the painful burning inside.

Usagi sniffled and rinsed the soap of her face. Squinting through the water, she turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around herself. Night was approaching fast, and the memories were driving her onward.

She had killed her brother and failed her parents.

She no longer feared the demons—the youma as they had been termed.

She would fight against the creatures that had destroyed her life.

She would set what she could right until time itself ended.


	6. Meeting at the Club

Night settled over Tokyo like an unfolding quilt, same as always

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. ** 

Author's Notes: Konnichiwa, minna-chan. I hope you like this next chapter. Sorry for the delay in posting. (Vacation=Travel ^_^) Remember that this is an AU. Please send some feedback or review! I love getting your comments, and I will consider any suggestions that you have. After all, I am writing this for you, and I do want you to like it. Enjoy reading! 

Rating: PG-13

******************* 

"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."

~ Proverb ~

Silver Eyes

by: The Silver Princess

Night settled over Tokyo like an unfolding quilt, same as always. Shadows lengthened like stretching, reaching fingers, and stars emerged like shy fireflies, twinkling with tiny light. Same shadows, same stars, and same noises, same bums. The beauty of the sky sickened above the degradation, and the wan streetlights barely diffused the heavy, polluted darkness of the city. Very few people dared to venture beyond the tourist-populated main streets.

Very few, but not none.

The motorcycle thrummed with reassuring familiarity beneath Usagi's legs as she leisurely maneuvered down the blackened streets. She paused at a stop sign, and the stagnant air—now deprived of the breeze of speed—was sticky and oppressively hot against her skin. Noise scuffled at her left, and she glanced over suspiciously. Her gaze softened, and she reached into her pocket and tossed some yen to the pitiable homeless boy. She frowned and silently scoffed at the Japanese authorities who blindly insisted that Japan had no homeless. Their senile prattling made no difference on the reality of the situation; no matter how much they denied it, the destitute still scrabbled for life in the back streets.

She accelerated away, and air moved against her skin, caressing her welcomingly. There had been no sign of a youma attack so far; consequently, she had had to content herself with randomly roving the streets in search of other menaces. A feral, dangerous smile lit her features at the thought, and her eyes glittered like the steel of a whetted blade. One foolhardy tourist would have been cold-bloodedly gutted by a desperate mugger had she not shown up. Evil came in many faces—often human—and the night was still young and very, very dark.

It had been several uneventful days since Usagi had relived the memory of her family's death. No youmas had appeared, and no senshi meetings had been called—as far as she could tell at least. To be honest with herself, which she always tried to be, she was growing rather impatient.

She yelped as a stray beam of light wandered into her path and unexpectedly illuminated a slick puddle of standing oil in the middle of the road. She jerked her bike to avoid it, and her tires skidded uncertainly at the unexpected move. She winced, hoping that she would remain upright. Then she cursed under her breath as she swerved again to avoid the corner of a connecting alley and came around in a full circle. She let her breath in a slow whoosh as her bike steadied and then scolded herself for her carelessness. Baka! 

Suddenly, Usagi frowned and turned her bike back to glare into the murk of the other alley she had glimpsed. She braked next to the fortuitous oil puddle and slowly wheeled her bike forward for a more thorough look.

"Nani?" she whispered to herself when her eyes confirmed the glimpse she had caught. "What are you doing here?" Her frown deepened as she scrutinized the figure more closely. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And dressed like that?" she added disbelievingly as she tilted her head curiously.

Usagi shrank furtively into the gloom, grateful that her black helmet concealed the bright gold of her hair, and Minako glanced around furtively with a wrinkled brow. Her face was thickly painted: lips garish red and eyes lined with an electric blue smeared on in a fiery shape. Her waterfall of blond hair was dyed with cerulean streaks. Her clothes were rather unsavory as well: short shorts that could be zipped in half and a shirt that would probably be better defined as sequined lingerie. Minako took one last look around before shrugging and slipping inside a door that released several blasts of loud electronica music before it shut. She had looked…disreputable to put it nicely, yet the tense expression on her face belied her wild appearance. What in the world was she…?

Usagi's lips quirked up into a crooked smile when she reached the logical conclusion. Well, well, well. Could this be a senshi meeting? How propitious that she had happened by at this exact moment. After all, who would suspect the city's official superheroes to plot and plan inside a shady nightspot in one of the seediest parts of town?

Usagi locked up her bike and walked confidently to the door, lifting her eyebrows as she examined it. The original black paint was chipped and peeling away, but the door did not lack decoration for various vulgar expressions of graffiti densely adorned it. She recoiled in disgust as she noticed a particularly graphic representation of private things that she would rather not see. She wrinkled her nose as she bypassed that area. What was this place? she wondered as she searched for something more identifying. She nearly burst into peals of laughter when she found the engraved name. Rave Monkeys 69? She shook her head in amusement. If her assumptions were correct and they did hold meetings at this scummy club, no wonder she had a difficult time finding them more than half of the time.

Music—now trance—blared into her eardrums like an atomic blast as Usagi opened the door and flitted inside. With wide eyes, she shook her head again, suddenly understanding Minako's outfit a great deal more. Even in her unusual mask and her black sports bra—hey, all her black shirts were unwashed, and, well, people went out in public in bikinis and those were far more revealing—Usagi was the most conservative partygoer. Neon colors bobbed around her, piercings and tattoos abounded, and twisting, dancing bodies pressed sweatily against each other in a writhing, pulsing mass of music, smoke, and energy.

Wrinkling her noise in resigned repugnance, Usagi flattened herself against the filthy wall and inched her way past the writhing, hip-wriggling crowd towards the small clump of tables and booths in the back of the club. She coughed queasily as she inhaled the thick marijuana smoke that pervaded the area. How did the senshi stand it? she wondered as she placed her hand over her mouth and attempted to breathe that way. She would never get the stench out of her hair. She averted her eyes when she noticed a wad of money and a plastic bag of substance changing hands. There was nothing she could do, and for the sake of her sanity, she did not want to know what other drugs were being pandered here.

She smiled enviously as she finally approached their booth. Through some quirky manipulation of magic, they had set it up some sort of bubble around themselves, through which no smoke could penetrate.

She slipped into the adjacent booth, sitting behind Ami, and pressed her back against the seat in an attempt both to hear better and to enjoy the edges of their smoke-free bubble. She furrowed her brow as she tuned in, trying to catch the pieces of their conversation. 

"The enemy…stronger," Makoto said urgently, banging her fist on the table. "…they're ambushing…with new…sterious enem…don't…fit…pattern…If…been for Serenity, we…not have gotten…"

"I think…focus…Serenity. Who…?" Rei interjected.

Usagi inhaled sharply, and the techno beat poured from the speakers and vibrated in her bones.

"…not know…motives," Rei continued firmly. "We need to figure…and if…connected to…hime.

"…agree," Ami said in her gentle, thoughtful voice. Usagi doubted she would have been able to hear her had she not been sitting directly on the other side of the booth seat. "Serenity-hime…main concern…if this girl…info…"

A murmur of consent floated into Usagi's ears. She should leave now, before they grew wise to her presence. She slithered towards the edge of the booth, and the slide of the fake leather felt disgusting against her bare back.

"Everyone," Minako interrupted, and her voice, which carried the weight of leadership, sounded clearly even over the house music. "I contacted Michiru a few hours ago."

"Nani?!" they chorused, and Usagi immediately sat down again, frowning in confusion. Michiru?

"The four of them are on their way," Minako announced.

There was a loud outcry of protest, and Usagi scooted closer, curious as to what could cause such dissension among the group.

"Minako, you shouldn't have done that," Mamoru said, his voice sounding with the same charismatic clarity.

"Listen, you may be the prince, but I'm still the leader of the senshi," Minako retorted, distinctly annoyed at this questioning of her authority,

"Yes, I'm not challenging you on that," he acquiesced smoothly. "But they might. They don't acknowledge your or my authority the same way."

"That's the point," Minako snapped immediately. Usagi heard her stand, and she slouched down nervously as she pictured Minako's head of blue-streaked blonde hair now high enough to see her. "They are loyal only to and above all else to Serenity-hime," she explained, thankfully oblivious to Usagi's clandestine company. "They'll do whatever they can to help us find the princess, and when she does appear, they'll bow to her authority. I don't need to be in charge of them, so long as we get their help anyway."

Someone murmured something unintelligible.

"Nani?"

"Someone…eavesdropping," Rei announced.

Feet scuffled against the floor as the others stood.

Usagi winced, cursing at herself for overlooking Rei's psychic powers. Well, this was her cue.

She sprang from her seat, coughing as she inadvertently gasped in the smoky air.

There was a shout behind her. "Shimmata! Serenity!"

She quickly dove into the mass of wriggling dancers and grunted as a hipbone dug into her side.

Bodies mashed against as she squirmed her way through the thick of the dancing. Strobe lights flashed neon against the inside of her closed eyelids, and the beat of the music reverberated in her bones. Thrum, thrum. Her head pounded as though a hammer beat inside her skull, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana and the sweaty body odor mixed cloyingly in her nostrils.

She gasped in relief as she squeezed free. The door. She sent a grateful prayer heavenward as she scrambled for the exit. Did people really do that for fun? she wondered incredulously.

She burst through the door and slammed it behind her, the music was cut off. For once, the pollution of Tokyo felt clean inside her lungs, and the comparative quiet was as blissful as forest glade.

Then she opened her eyes and said a word that would have made a soldier blush.

"Well, you did lose us inside," Mamoru said consolingly.

Usagi scowled and crossed her arms at the five figures surrounding her motorcycle.

"Did you really think that we were that stupid?" Makoto snorted. "We knew you'd end up at your bike regardless of what you did you lose us." 

Her scowl deepened, but she remained silent.

"We just want to talk," Ami explained.

She arched an eyebrow. "How friendly. And if I turn down this friendly invitation?" They fidgeted uncomfortably, and she nodded. "I thought so." She nibbled her lip. She really did not want to leave her bike.

"Answer five questions, and then you get your bike back," Minako said in an iron voice.

"That's blackmail," Usagi pointed out mildly.

"Four," Minako bargained.

"No," Usagi said.

"Three."

Usagi laughed. "This isn't a negotiation. I said no."

Minako fumed, and she opened her mouth to retort.

"Mina-chan," Ami said as she laid a calming hand on her arm.

Minako sputtered but then nodded when Ami whispered quietly.

Ami turned to Usagi. "We simply want to know what you know. If you are an ally, that would not be an unreasonable request," she explained in a cooperative tone.

She frowned at the blue-haired girl suspiciously. "You do consider me an ally, then?" she asked.

Ami smiled, and her tiny, sweet smile seemed to negate her scandalous costume. Her head tilted thoughtfully, and Usagi bit the inside of her cheek as she noticed the spiked hairdo. "Yes, I do," she answered.

A genuine smile broke over Usagi's features, brightening her face in a manner reminiscent to Odango Atama's. "Thank you," she said to Ami.

"But what about the rest of you?" she asked as she glanced at the others.

"Some more than others," Minako responded coldly, and her face remained stony and mistrustful. Makoto was guarded but seemed willing to change her mind quickly. Rei was frowning but not with distrust; it was as though she were working out some puzzle, annoying only in its mystery. Mamoru's gaze was level and steady, and his face showed respect and trust. 

Usagi shrugged, and her silver eyes glinted. "Your loss," she said lightly to Minako. She couldn't really blame them for their suspicion.

She turned towards Ami. "I don't know anything," she admitted. She snorted and grinned. "Well, nothing except how to do an inside-out spinning crescent kick. Apart from what I eavesdropped before—sorry about that—I don't know one thing about Serenity-hime and princes." As she said the last word, she locked gazes with Mamoru, and his eyes were deep and searching.

"Then what are you doing helping us?" he asked curiously, and his deep, smoky voice hung in the alleyway. 

Usagi looked away, refusing to meet any of the staring eyes, as emotion roiled inside her. "You fight evil. So do I," she answered succinctly.

An unsatisfied pause filled the alleyway, and Minako frowned. "Why?" the blond senshi asked. 

Usagi pursed her lips, knowing that her silence would only further Minako's mistrust. "I was once confronted with evil, and I failed," she blurted before she regained her composure. She sighed heavily and continued softly, "Four people died because of me, although only one was struck by my hand."

They jerked in surprise, and Makoto and Minako gaped openly at her. Dawning comprehension lit in Rei's eyes, and Ami gazed at her compassionately, understanding. Only Mamoru seemed unreactive.

"Now, my bike?" Usagi said leadingly, her low, rich voice breaking the astonished hush. In the aftermath of her confession, she felt as though she had swallowed broken glass.

They grudgingly moved away from her vehicle and watched as she unlocked it. She mounted and revved up the engine.

"So we can trust you?" Mamoru confirmed.

She smiled warmly at him, and her silver eyes sparkled with inner radiance. "Hai," she answered lightly. "I'm glad we cleared this up." 

Mamoru's perceptive eyes traced the shape of her face. Despite her skillful makeup, her nose stayed pert, and her face remained sweet, although more mature. Under those discerning eyes, she suddenly felt naked despite her mask. "Could kill someone…" he whispered an echo of his words earlier, his voice so soft that she was certain only she heard him. The light in her eyes dimmed, and she shivered and released the brake. In her ears, the squeal of tires sounded as though they betrayed her, "Usagi!" 

She could feel his blue-gray eyes on her back, as unerring as they were gorgeous. Her stomach clenched.

Now what?

**Gomen nasai for the delay in posting, minna-chan, but as I said above, summer vacation traveling made things a trifle difficult. So, FYI: I'm going to be gone all July, and I won't get to posting anything until August. Sayonara 'til then!**


	7. Saiai

**STANDARD DISCLAIMER** You know the drill. ^_^

Author's Notes will be at the end.

Rating: PG-13

******************* 

"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."

~ Proverb ~

Silver Eyes  

by: The Silver Princess

The ride home was a night-blackened blur. Her tires sailed over the pavement as though it were slick ice, and Usagi was heedless of the speeding laws she was violating so severely. Her eyes were like steel, and she gripped the handlebars until her fingers turned white and tingly.

Did Mamoru know?

Did they all know?

The senshi had seen her up close, had been concentrating on her, not distracted by a youma. And Mamoru . . . Perhaps, he only he suspected her? Or maybe, that comment had meant nothing, just a random coincidence, and he was completely unaware of her identity.

_Could kill someone . . ._

In her concentration, she sped past her apartment complex and by the time she realized she had missed her home, she suddenly didn't care. She narrowed her eyes, gunned the engine, and continued racing forward, burning off her anxiety like the motor consuming the gasoline. The night enveloped her black form, and only the gleam of the chrome on her motorcycle betrayed her presence.

The next morning, she dashed into class, pigtails flying and excuses screeching. Haruna-sensei rolled her eyes at Usagi's routine antics, and the day quickly settled into normal routine.

Yet, Usagi could not help but glance at her friends every minute or so. Was that a spark of suspicion in Minako's keen eyes? Did she see thoughtful speculation in Ami's knowledgeable little face? Had Rei psychically searched the fire for information after she had left? Was it just her imagination or was Makoto staring at her in strange recognition?

Lunch couldn't come quickly enough.

Usagi stuffed her face with food even more than usual, trying to avoid interaction with her friends. Makoto's normally mouth-watering cuisine was sticky, unpalatably bland in her mouth.

She suffered through one more nerve-frazzling hour before she decided to skip school by feigning illness and heading to the nurse. The nurse, who had learned that students in Tokyo often fell prey to strange spells of inexplicable exhaustion and sickness, wisely did not question Usagi too strenuously, and once permission was granted, Usagi promptly escaped home.

Although night had not yet fallen, she flung open her closet and stripped of her flowered dress with a small sigh of released tension. The black pants and tank had never felt more comforting than they did at that moment.

She removed her contacts and then unbound her hair. She reached for her makeup and then paused, her hand hovering uncertainly. She turned up her eyes from the counter and stared at her reflection in the mirror, a collection of features: that clean, young face, and those silver, aged eyes, the long mane of gold falling unfettered. The unfamiliar girl stared back at her, neither Odango Atama nor Serenity. Just Usagi.

She pursed her lips and looked away, grabbing the makeup kit almost violently. "This secret identity thing is taking its toll," she muttered angrily. "You're losing it, baka." She swiped blush over her cheekbones and scrutinized the effect. Still too Odango looking. Finally after several attempts to apply cosmetics, she tossed her eyeliner down and scrubbed her face clean. She sighed. "You'll have to talk to him and see if he knows anything," she told the mirror in a tight voice. "Or you'll never stop worrying." Her reflection nodded. 

Feeling significantly calmer, Usagi reapplied her makeup and then wound her hair into her trademark braided crown. She wandered into her living room and flopped onto the couch in boredom. 

Night was too slow in coming. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, hot and yellow on her face. She stood, gravitating towards the glass. She laid her hand against the cool surface and stared down at the long drop as her thoughts drifted throughout Tokyo. Her breathing slowed almost meditatively as she gazed without seeing.

There was a sudden snap within her, and she spun around into a crouch, fists at the ready. Her chest heaved as her system was suddenly flooded with adrenaline. It was as though she had heard an out-of-place noise or been unexpectedly ambushed, but no…that wasn't it. She furrowed her brow as she relaxed her stance. The uneasiness lingered in her gut, a tight knot of urgency compelling her to action. 

She tapped her fingers against her thigh in a fretful fit of anxiety as the emotion inside her rose to a crescendo. Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes, seeking to calm herself. Her nerves screamed at her. _You're wasting time!_ She scrunched her eyes tighter, striving to still her tense body, still insisting that she go, just _go!_

She had felt this way before, she suddenly realized.

She opened her eyes, and silver shone metallic like a hunting cat's eyes. Hai, she had felt this. She'd always been in the thick of battle and she had discounted the feeling as hyperness.

_GO!_

She abruptly snapped into movement, a cyclone of black and blonde. Her mask was quickly secured in place, her keys were clenched in her hand, and she was out the door, down the stairs, starting her bike, racing down the road. The sun glared in her eyes, trying to deter her, but she sped unerringly onward, that prickling, insistent dread in her abdomen pulling her like a chain, compelling her onward as her heart beat with urgency.

*****

Usagi saw the youma immediately and froze, desperately trying to restrain her inappropriate laughter. Thank goodness, she had never fallen prey to that common childhood fear of psychopathic clowns.

She grinned wolfishly and placed her hands on her hips. "Hey," she called, and its attention turned suddenly to her. She waited impatiently as it stared at her. "Well, aren't you going to try to drain my energy?" she inquired sweetly.

The clown thing laughed its insane clown laugh and then turned away from her, hunkering down over whatever prey it had discovered before her arrival.

"Hey!" she shouted, feeling affronted, and she strode forward.

She froze midstep as she noted the head of black hair beneath the youma. Her eyes followed the oh-so-familiar profile, and horror dawned on her as her stupefied brain grasped the identity of the victim. She transferred her gaze to the youma, and unrelenting fire kindled in her eyes as a low snarl built inside her throat, propelling her forward, the urgent tug in her gut lending her increased power.

She went in low, swinging her leg an inch from the pavement and knocking the youma from its feet. It thudded to the ground, and her fist made contact with its outlandishly red grin. It flipped to its feet, suddenly wary of the new opponent, and they circled each other. Usagi heard a groan behind her and carefully eased away, drawing the youma after her.

She darted forward, feinting left with a wide swing of her fist, and then kneeing it sharply in the righthand side of its torso. It curled automatically around the hurt, and she adjusted her weight placement so that her knee could continue its movement to smash against its face. It screeched and jerked up, flailing with its arms. A hand backslapped her in the chest before she could evade it. Pain exploded in splinters through her torso as she flew into the wall, smacking her head against the concrete. 

Wheezing and holding an arm protectively over her aching ribcage, she slid to the ground dazedly as dark spots bled through her vision. Her skull loudly protested with waves of aching.

"Here," a voice croaked near her ear. A warm palm pressed against her back, and the pain suddenly eased to a dull, week-old ache. Then something was pushed into her hand.

"Get away from here," she hissed as she stood up, positioning herself in front of him. The clown was still unmovingly watching her. She muttered a grateful thank you that youmas were so imbecilic.

Usagi brought her arms up, intending to strike again, when she realized she was still holding what he had urged into her hand. She arched an eyebrow and glanced halfway over her shoulder. "A rose?" she asked incredulously.

"Steel-tipped. With some magic in it. It'll help you," he explained weakly.

"Okay—hey!" She dodged the youma's blow and sliced against it with the rose's stem as though it were a normal dagger. It screamed, stumbling backwards, as black ooze dripped from the cut.

"Wow, it works," she noted in surprise. "Now don't try any heroics. You're not in any shape to do that," she ordered him firmly and then turned around to refocus on the youma. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the rose stem and moved forward slowly, watchfully.

The youma charged, laughing madly.

Usagi leapt upwards, sticking out her arm. The youma's momentum as he collided with her forearm jarred her backwards even as it knocked the clown. She twisted and landed into a somersault. With lightning speed, she vaulted at the youma, pressing her foot on its throat to keeping it pinned to the ground and to cut off its oxygen. Its legs flew up, attempting to kick her in the base of her skull, and she fell flat against its chest to avoid the blow. 

Teeth snapped her, trying to rip into her neck. She wriggled to evade the biting shark-like fangs while simultaneously trying to keep it restrained down. She elbowed it in the mouth, and teeth scraped over her skin, drawing blood. It snarled, its appetite whetted. She hunched down and then headbutted upwards, its jaws sharply snapping closed. Taking advantage of its transitory shock, she stabbed into its chest with her only weapon, the rose.

The rose stem bore into the creature with razor-sharp ease as though a dagger were slicing through butter. Its howl was unearthly loud but brief, and its muscles went lax beneath her as black, acidic blood seeped onto her chest, burning. She jerked away as she twisted the rose deeper.

"Now," she said coldly. "I know you can understand what I say. I don't have the magic to kill you. But this handy little rose here can apparently cause you a great deal of pain. I suggest you start telling me useful things." She glared at the sullen looking clown with gray ice in her eyes.

"Ie?" She pressed the rose deeper, nearly to the base of the blood-red flower.

"Don't know anything!" it wailed stupidly. "Gimme the energy, the life. I want it."

"So you can communicate somewhat intelligibly," Usagi cried in mock surprise. "Who sent you?"

"The man."

She gritted her teeth impatiently. "What man?"

"He serves the queen. Ow, ow, ow. He commands me in her place. She's locked away!" the clown screeched miserably. "I will kill you! Stop it! You will all die!" Its eyes burned with hatred

"Why him?"

The clown glared at her with smoldering quiet fury.

She pulled the rose partly out, changed the angle, and stabbed again.

"Bitch! You will die and this world will become a stinking cesspool of torment! Bitch!"

"Tell me what I want to know. Why attack this man?"

"Bitch!"

"What was that?" she asked as she sank the rose deeper into its chest.

"Royal blood," it muttered sullenly, almost inaudibly.

"Explain. And speak up."

"AARGH! Don't know nothing!"

She frowned thoughtfully as she stared at the glowering youma. She hadn't lied. She didn't have the capabilities to actually kill it. She needed one of the senshi to do that.

 "Under the Time Space Star, Pluto, I am Sailor Pluto!" The soft, husky voice floated over the air, and confused, Usagi glanced over her shoulder and saw the tall figure of a long-haired woman holding an ornate staff.

"Under the Silent Star, Saturn, I am Sailor Saturn!" The most diminutive of the four silhouettes twirled her glaive as her sweet, clear voice rang out.

"Under the Deep Sea Star, Neptune, I am Sailor Neptune!" The third speaker stepped forward as she spoke, and the golden sunlight glimmered over waves of sea green hair. 

The fourth figure strode forward. "Under the Heavenly Star, Uranus, I am—What the hell?!"

"Uranus!" Sailor Neptune hissed.

The tall, short-haired senshi frowned irritably.  "What? Well, do you want to explain this?" she asked belligerently, gesturing towards Usagi and the youma with her sword.

Usagi shook herself from her startlement. "Um, excuse me?" she interrupted indignantly. "Could you kill this thing, and then talk?"

Uranus narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

Usagi darted away as the blond senshi blasted power from her extended palm like a tornado. "World Shaking!"

The rose glowed like a tiny red sun in the gust of energy as the youma disintegrated around it before it too crumbled. Usagi blinked dust from her eyes as the four unfamiliar senshi leapt from the roof of the building to the ground.

Ignoring them, she turned on her heel and knelt down. "Are you all right, Mamoru-san?" she asked, worry gnawing in her gut.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he muttered as he blinked owlishly at her. "Help me stand, will you?"

She draped his arm over her shoulders, placed hers around his waist, and carefully eased him to his feet. "You do seem to be starting some sort of trend here," she answered with a laugh. He chuckled weakly.

"Excuse me? What the hell is going on here?" Uranus interrupted. "Who are you?"

"Uranus, let her speak," Neptune said, her melodious voice placating. She rested her hand on Uranus's forearm, and the other senshi subsided.

Usagi opened her mouth to relieve their suspicions, but what popped out was "Is one of you named Michiru?" Wasn't that the name of the person Minako had referred to the night before?

"Neptune is Kaioh Michiru," Mamoru answered her matter-of-factly.

"Hey!" Neptune cried, indignant to have him reveal her identity to a complete stranger.

Uranus grinned triumphantly as though this confirmed her mistrust. "See?"

"The violinist?"

"I said 'hey!'"

Usagi ignored them, focusing on Mamoru. "Uranus looks familiar," she observed. "A lot like Kaioh-san's boyfriend."

"Tenoh Haruka."

"Mamoru, what are you doing telling her?"

"She _is_ the racer! But then that would mean—Tenoh-san is female!"

"Okay, now you're going to get it!"

"What do you think, fists or sword?"

"Are the others famous too?"

"Fists are slower, love."

"No, Pluto is a physicist named Meioh Setsuna and Saturn is a student named Tomoe Hotaru." He smiled at her as she paused to memorize their names.

"I think I'll go with fists," Uranus decided threateningly.

"Will you all stop it?" a loud voice cut through the din of multiple conversations. Everyone turned simultaneously to stare at the exasperated Sailor Pluto. "Honestly, intelligible conversation is not that difficult."

"We should speak somewhere more private. This sort of thing is bound to draw attention," Saturn added softly, tilting her head, her silky black hair sliding to veil her left cheekbone.

"My place?" Mamoru suggested. "I'll call the others."

"Fine," Uranus agreed gruffly.

No one moved. Usagi growled impatiently and slowly began leading Mamoru to her motorcycle. Uranus glared at her as she passed, and she glared at her in return. Pale azure clashed with silver for a long second.

She could feel those blue eyes boring into her back suspiciously as she approached her bike. "All right, Mamoru-san, just get on the bike," she murmured as she helped him sit.

"Is that yours?" a voice said next to her ear suddenly.

Usagi jumped and spun around, finding herself nose to nose with Sailor Uranus. She frowned suspiciously. "You're fast." There was an assessing pause before "Yeah, it's mine."

"Sugoi. A little older than mine, but," Uranus crouched down to get a closer look at the machine, "you've made some nice modifications." She grinned up at Usagi who was climbing on behind Mamoru.

"Arigatou, Tenoh-san."

"Hey, call me Haruka-chan," Uranus said cheerfully as she glowingly ran a hand over the front tire.

"Honestly, you and your toys," Neptune interrupted affectionately.

"Jealous?" Uranus asked, casually wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Ahem," Sailor Pluto coughed pointedly.

Usagi hid a grin. "We'll meet you at Mamoru-san's, okay?"

Sailor Saturn gasped suddenly. "Our luggage!" she squeaks. She dashed away, her tiny form moving like a hummingbird.

"Perhaps tomorrow," Pluto added apologetically.

"It'll give Mamoru-san time to get a hold of the others," Usagi answered understandingly.

"Call us on our communicators," Pluto agreed.

"Hey, why am I in front?" Mamoru interjected as she started the engine.

"You can barely walk. Do you think I'm going to trust you to hold on to me to stay on?" Usagi retorted. "Now slouch down so I can see." She turned to the senshi. "Ja ne!" Her heart clenched jealously as she saw Uranus and Neptune holding hands some comfortably, so she rested her chin on Mamoru's shoulder, ostensibly to see better but more for the contact.

"You know I really like that girl," she heard Uranus say as she drove away. 

The sun was setting now, and reddish light glazed the concrete of Tokyo. She zipped along the streets and drove towards the bloated sun, red as blood on the horizon. The entire sky was awash with red and orange, and the light slanted into her visor, casting her face in bronze. She glanced at her hands on the handles and the red light on black gloves looked like drying maroon blood. She shuddered and sped even faster towards her destination.

*****

"Arigatou," he murmured as she handed him the steaming cup of tea. 

"There was something I wanted to speak to you about," Usagi began as she stepped away. Her stomach fluttered.

"Oh?" he quirked an eyebrow at her as he settled himself more comfortably on the large sofa, lounging longlimbed like a graceful jungle cat. "Sit down, sit down," he added.

She perched at the edge of his couch hesitantly, still unsure of the right words. "You see, last night…There was something about the way you looked at me that made me think you recognized me from somewhere…" she trailed off, groping for the correct phrases.

"You want to protect your identity," he summarized astutely.

"Hai," she conceded.

"I had a thought that you were someone I know," he started, and she tensed. "But that's passed. I don't know who you are, but if I did, I wouldn't reveal your identity without your consent." He placed his hand over hers and looked deeply into her silver eyes.

She smiled softly as the tension inside her uncoiled. "Arigatou."

A stray breeze sneaked in through Mamoru's open window, ruffling his hair. She froze, suddenly acutely aware of his hand on hers, his eyes locked on hers. Was his thumb moving over her skin, caressing her hand?

Stop acting like a lovesick child. She shook herself, breaking the spell, and delicately extricated her slim hand from his. "I should go," Usagi said politely, moving to stand.

"Wait." His hand was now on her arm, restraining her. She allowed him to press her to sit again. "Stay for awhile. Talk with me."

His eyes were on her with a tender expression that she dared not decipher, and she couldn't help but consent.

*****

 "So, this princess holds the greatest power of you all?"

"Hai. That's why we must find her quickly to win."

"So what is she like?" Usagi asked, carefully keeping her voice steady. She twisted her body to sit sideways on the couch, to face him. "Is she related to you?"

He cracked a wry grin and mimicked her movement. Her heart jumped as his knee brushed hers. "We don't know much actually. This was all in a past life of which we have very few memories. I don't know what my connection to Serenity-hime is, don't know what she's like. We do know that she's the avatar of hope, the light. That's where her power comes from. She holds the purest heart, the greatest hope inside her."

"Impressive."

He grinned in agreement. "Definitely. We've posited that she'll be something of an innocent, someone sweet and almost childlike."

"Very rational given the prerequisites."

"Then when we find someone, we ask Ami to scan her to see if she's a possibility."

"Slow, long, not very practicable…"

"But just about the only option," he finished for her.

She shrugged. "I'll keep an eye out on your behalf."

"Arigatou." He gazed at her steadily, a flicker of unreadable emotion lighting his eyes, before he glanced away to take a sip of tea.

"So tell me a little about yourself. It's a topic we've been avoiding for a good while now," Mamoru said teasingly as he reached forward to tuck a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. Usagi's breathing hitched at the affectionate familiarity with which his fingers brushed her cheekbone.

"Oh, it's late. We've been talking for ages—" she started quickly to mask her disobedient heart. 

"Don't worry," he immediately added. "I won't try to figure out who you are."

"I don't know…" she hesitated, glancing down at her hands twisting around each other, her nerves tight. 

Mamoru perceived the state of her nerves that his question had brought on. He rested his hand on her knee reassuringly, and his eyes looked on her so warmly. "You don't have to tell me anything," he soothed.

"I have no family," she declared suddenly, bluntly.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"They died two years ago. All of them. I've always felt that it was my fault." She let her breath out in a whoosh. "I can't believe I just told you that. I haven't told anyone else that." She shook her head, amazed at herself. What was it about him that made her so…open and peaceful?

"I have no family either," he offered. "My parents died when I was five. I can't even remember them since the crash that killed them gave me amnesia. I never told anyone about my amnesia. I always liked to dream up memories and pretend they were real."

She smiled a small smile, giving his hand a tight squeeze—somehow their hands were interlocked again.

"I guess that makes us kindred spirits," he suggested tentatively.

"I like that, Mamoru-san. It gives me a family again." Her smile widened as her heart thumped against her ribcage, nearly bursting to declare her love.

"Why won't you tell me who you are?" he asked after a moment of thought. "After all, you know who I am, who we all are."

Usagi frowned uncomfortably. "I don't know…I just…" She paused, searching for words to explain her position. He waited patiently. "During the day, I play a different person, someone who doesn't have to deal with the pain that I feel. I'm not ready to give that up, to be myself full time." She broke off and looked away, her chest tight.

Mamoru laid a comforting hand against her cheek, gently obliging her to face him. "I understand," he said.

She blinked in surprise.

"Hey, you should have seen me when I first discovered all this, superpowers and a past life that I don't remember. To be truthful, I didn't deal very well. I'm still a little disturbed by it actually; I just hide it better. At least you're up front about the way you feel some of the time. I practically never am." He tilted his head. "Except with you, it seems."

"You feel alone," she whispered. "And unsure of how to fix things."

"Yes," he agreed quietly, his blue-gray eyes swimming with emotion.

"You're just trying to live and not to worry those who know you when you feel like you're dying inside." She was gazing at him softly; she knew she was baring her heart. Did he see love in her eyes?

"Exactly," he murmured. His thumb came up to her face to caress her cheek. His warm breath was tickling on her skin. He was so close.

Usagi closed her eyes.

Mamoru kissed her.

His lips were tender and warm, cautious of her response. She sighed deeply and leaned into the kiss, her arms coming up to circle his neck, her hands to tangle in his hair. "Aishiteru," he murmured, his voice muffled against her lips.

Her eyes snapped open at his tender words, and she pulled away, leaping to her feet as emotion overwhelmed her.

Fury.

She began to pace in front of a very confused Mamoru, her fists clenching and unclenching spasmodically as waves of red-hazed anger washed through her. "What are you talking about?" she accused him furiously, her silver eyes flashing with fire. "You don't even know me! How can you love me? I thought you were different!" She gritted her teeth tightly, but her fuming words continued to spill from her lips. "Ie! You're a typical male! You'll say whatever it takes to try to get you want. Let me tell you, I don't fall for that! Oh, I actually thought that you—oh!"

"Serenity, please, will you listen to me?" she heard him plead, but she was too caught up in her raging emotions to pay attention. Her feet ate up the distance of his apartment as she stalked back and forth.

"To think that I actually fell in lo—" She broke off quickly with a gasp as she realized what she had said.

"You love me?" he asked, and her heart convulsed at the sudden buoyancy and hope in his voice.

She froze, unable to respond. There was ice in her limbs, ice in her belly. Had she really just told him that? Ruined everything?

"Aishiteru," he repeated, putting more force and conviction in his voice.

She was shaking, shuddering, but she could not bring herself to move. The moon had risen and was shining brilliantly in her eyes through the window.

 He stood up slowly as though she were a wild creature ready to bolt—a judgment not far from the truth, she wryly admitted. "I don't know who you are technically," he began in a low voice. "But somehow I do. I feel as though my heart knows yours somehow, as though I fell in love with your soul but have only just now realized that you are the one. Onegai, saiai, can't you feel that connection?"

His presence was too close, overwhelming her rationality. Feeling unusually waiflike in comparison to his tall, lean form, she looked up at him, her anger faded and replaced by uncertainty. Did he love her?

He stroked her cheek gently, encouraged that she didn't pull away. She shivered inwardly at his touch, sparks running up and down her spine. "I remember when I first saw you," he continued, seeking to reassure her. "I remember looking into your eyes, glowing silver. I remember seeing your soul shining in them even then. That's when I first loved you. I'm just remarkably dense when it comes to hearing what my heart was trying to tell me.

"Do you know what you saved me from that night? Not the youma. Myself. I was self-destructing, freezing up inside. If you hadn't come into my life, I would have become a cold, heartless jerk, incapable of giving or receiving love. But from the moment you looked at me with those remarkable eyes and I saw such unbridled love for everything that you were willing to risk yourself voluntarily, you changed that."

She remained mute, her heart wrestling itself inside her. He sounded so sincere…perhaps he did return her feelings; perhaps she hadn't misjudged him. She bit her lip uncertainly, tasting the lipstick flavor of her lips. She had always prided herself on her bravery. Did she have the courage to let him in, to allow him to be more than a dream and become something potentially painful, but far more wonderful? There was love shining within her, begging to be released. Even her bruised heart that she feared to hurt again was yearning for him.

"Onegai, saiai," he whispered, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around her legs to hold her close. His eyes were pleading, loving, open. Something very painful, yet very rapturous burst inside her chest, and she knew then that there had never been another option for her. She loved him, and it was as simple and as beautiful as that. This was what she wanted. Love. 

Letting her knees go limp, she slid down into his arms until she was tight in his embrace and kissing him. Kissing him, holding him, never letting go.

"Aishiteru."

She didn't know who had whispered it, but somewhere in her fogged mind she thought that perhaps they both had.

******************* 

Note: Saiai means beloved

A/N: Wow, that took forever to get out. My goodness, research papers and internet failures can really mess with your life. I just want to say the enormous sorry to all of you who expected this installment a lot earlier. *Gets down on knees and pleads for forgiveness* ^_^ I decided to make it longer to try to make up for the wait. Hope it was worth it! Anyway, just so you know, that wait was definitely abnormal. The next installment will be up within a month; I've already started. Arigato for reading. Tell me what you think. Please review or e-mail me!


	8. Visions of Impending Darkness

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. ** 

Rating: PG

******************* 

"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."

~ Proverb ~

Silver Eyes  

by: The Silver Princess 

Usagi grimaced as she scrutinized her appearance. Despite the layers of concealer, the dark purpling shadows were still visible beneath her dull eyes. She sighed wearily, leaning against the counter. Even aided by her significant endurance and stamina, she had found the last few days exhausting. Her muscles ached, and her brain felt muffled and heavy. The temptation of sleep and her mussed bed was all but overwhelming.

Under normal circumstances, the easy acknowledgment of her and Mamoru's new relationship, the friendly welcoming into the group, and the understanding acceptance of her desire to remain unknown would have seemed miraculous and wonderful, would have left her feeling buoyant and almost lighthearted. It was like being accepted into a large, albeit strange, family. They cooperated with her in fights, and afterwards, opened their conferences to her—she no longer had to eavesdrop in hopes of discovering information; they willingly talked and shared with her. Normally, she would be delighted. Exhausted, she sighed again. But these last few days…

Something big was about to happen.

The youma were attacking more frequently, even venturing into the daytime to sate their need for human energy and life. The senshi were on edge; their mystical abilities were warning them as vociferously as possible. Her mind flashed back to the meeting where they had spilled out their concerns, growing increasingly uneasy as each confirmed the danger.

"Rei and I have both been having dreams, the prophetic kind." Mamoru grimly shook his head. His voice was hollow as he continued, "There's ice and darkness, an impenetrable blackness that strangles the planet. It's a short walk to a throne of swirling blood, and a woman is laughing. She's more than mortal, though. There's something evil harbored inside her body." 

"My Mirror," Michiru began hesitantly. "The images it shows me correspond with what you say."

"What does it show you?"

"I can't say. It's too—" She broke off as Haruka reassuringly squeezed her hand. "But it's coming soon. An awful hunger to devour our world."

"I'm afraid that I can shed some light on the exact details of what will happen," Ami added unhappily when no one else spoke. "The empirical data that I've gathered demonstrates that the levels of negative energy have skyrocketed. If these statistics continue in their current pattern unchecked, the negative energy will destabilize the planet within a week."

She paused, taking a deep breath before resuming in a carefully academic and dispassionate voice. "My research and findings indicate that the climate will fluctuate dramatically, causing drought and flooding throughout the land. The tectonic plates will shift, causing earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanic eruptions. Hitherto unknown diseases will break out, decimating the human and livestock population. Humanity will be seized by a worldwide panic, and fed by the negativity, their behavior will grow increasing violent until a slaughter begins among the survivors. After a few years, a new ice age will begin. The ice caps will cover all but the tallest mountains, but the temperatures will have plummeted so severely that life as we know it could not survive there anyway."

As Ami spoke, the circle of faces grew increasingly apprehensive and sorrowful. Usagi felt numb as she listened to the tally of disasters. "And," Ami said, her voice dejected and hesitant as though not wanting to worsen the situation, "that's not taking into account the effects of the youma and demons themselves."

Usagi's stomach clenched uncomfortably as she sought to banish her mind's imaginings of the suffering that would come to pass. Silence blanketed the gathering. She lightly brushed her fingers over her mask, a nervous habit she had developed since she began to spend closer time with the senshi. Mamoru noticed and surreptitiously took her hand in his. She smiled at him gratefully.

She looked back at the circle of silent senshi, and her eyes suddenly locked with Hotaru's. Those violet irises were so dark, almost black; haunted, ageless eyes skimmed with ice. The slender, tiny girl was so much colder and quieter than when Usagi had met her. She feels it also, Usagi realized. She feels the approach of the end, and Saturn's power is growing within her, stripping away her identity as a young girl. Then unexpectedly, Hotaru inclined her head and smiled with a ghost of her youthful spirit, acknowledging the concern on Usagi's face.

The silence was very heavy now.

"Setsuna?" Usagi interrupted.

Startled, Setsuna turned towards her, her keen garnet eyes flashing unusually as they always did when she focused on Usagi.

"You're the senshi of time. Can't you tell us anything?"

"I'm not omniscient," Setsuna said dryly. "I can tell you this much: this is an ancient evil that has slept and festered for many millennia. It has not disrupted the space-time continuum to threaten us. As for the future," she shrugged. "We are at a crossroads and my knowledge of the future shifts like quicksand, showing too many possibilities to even begin to examine." Usagi's silver eyes narrowed as she perceived the tension in the green-haired woman's posture and the way her fingers clenched against the chair. This inability to grasp the possibilities of the future was unusual, unnerving, and worrisome to her.

Beside Usagi, Haruka suddenly exploded, "We have to find Serenity-hime! The princess is the only one who can stand a chance. We have to find her!"

Usagi shook her head, banishing the recollection. She dabbed on another layer of concealer and then scrutinized the finishing product. It would have to suffice; otherwise, she would be late for school in actuality. She reluctantly pushed off from the counter, wobbling momentarily with fatigue. Even the little sleep she had been snatching had been restless and disturbed, troubled by dreams that mimicked those of Mamoru's description. She may not have superpowers, but her heart could sense the twisting evil that putrefied fester out of sight.

She wrinkled her nose as she left the apartment building. The newspaper had not recorded any rise in smog levels, yet she could have sworn that the air was heavier and blacker, acrid in her lungs. She coughed once before flicking her pigtails out of her face and beginning her dash to school.

*****

Usagi lightly dozed on her desk, her head pillowed against her arms. A stray wisp of hair tickled at her nose, but she didn't have the energy to bother brushing it away. Ami poked her in the shoulder as she always did when Usagi nodded off, but she simply ignored her. She had faked naps during class often enough; surely a real one couldn't hurt anything. Haruna-sensei was in a very good mood today so she would not pretend to care either.

Gradually as Haruna-sensei murmured on about the difference between that and which in the English language, Usagi's drowsing slipped off into deep slumber. Her head slipped down, until her cheekbone came to rest against the cool wood of the desktop.

When Usagi opened her eyes, she knew she was dreaming. There was a glassy smoothness to her surroundings, which always seemed in danger of metamorphosing into something else. She stood up and her desk vanished into tiny wisps of smoke behind her.

"Who are you?"

"What?" she said, turning towards the voice. She frowned and spun in a circle. There was no one there, just an endless expanse of pale green grass and of pastel blue sky.

"Who are you?"

The voice was feminine, familiar. Usagi frowned trying to place it, to recall whose face accompanied that voice. Its timbre was low and rich, and its tonal quality very serene and regal. Her frown deepened; the memory was niggling at the corners of her mind, hiding in a nearby shadow.

"Who are you?"

"I am Tsukino Usagi," she responded politely. Her hand brushed against the tips of the tall grass. "And you are?"

"You have not yet answered my question to the fullest," the voice insisted. Was that a hint of amusement she heard? "Who are you?"

"I am Tsukino Usagi," she repeated patiently. The voice remained silent. "I am also known by some as Serenity," she added hesitantly. "Not the princess, Serenity-hime, just Serenity."

A light pleased laughter glittered in the air and pastel blossoms suddenly bloomed into being. The meadow was awash with the bobbing heads of large pale flowers. Sunlight drizzled down like golden honey.

"And you are?" Usagi inquired, inferring that she had finally answered the question to the voice's satisfaction.

"Well, I am—"

Usagi waited nervously. "You are?" There was no answer, and the sunlight had dimmed. The sky was darkening becoming a purply blue twilight. "Hello? Hello?"

The flowers shrank away from her hands, wilting and fading into nothingness. The sky above was rapidly approaching blackness.

Usagi's breath was loud in her ears, and she spun around, searching futilely for some discerning landmark.

On the horizon, smoky darkness reared and then shuddered into a fall against the earth. Tendrils of black quickly coursed from it, weaving and expanding, dashing across the landscape. It streamed over every hill, devoured every tree like foul flood of ink.

Usagi gasped. The air was freezing in her lungs; it was difficult to breathe properly. She turned from the hungry, swelling darkness and began to run. Her feet tripped over holes and rocks that she couldn't see. Her lungs labored to pump enough oxygen into her blood. Tiny particles of ice began to blow in the wind, scraping over her cheeks and caking in her eyelashes.

She tripped, stumbled, fell hard. Her palms slapped against the cold hard ground painfully as she sprawled, panting.

Arctic laughter filled the air.

She looked up, not expecting to see anything in this stygian gloom. She blinked in surprise, her eyes watering, as she was met with a dim glow of light.

The light bloomed, illuminating a figure before her.

It was a large high-backed throne, deep blackish red, the color of dried blood. It might have been marble swirled with varying shades of black and crimson, but…she crinkled her forehead, examining it closer. The marbling moved; it churned and swirled like liquid encased in glass. The red light throbbed.

There was a woman standing there, shadow clinging to her like cobwebs, obscuring her features. The only identifying trait was her bright, vibrant shock of scarlet hair. The laughter came from that woman and echoed all around. It was deep laughter, with echoes of another inside it, wormed inside the female voice. Darkness undulated. There was power there, power not native to that woman's body.

"I have been waiting for you to kneel to me, little one," she hissed in her unnatural voice.

Usagi shuddered as the sound scraped over her like razors but forced herself to stand.

Laughter crawled over her again. "Child, haven't you guessed it already? You're just like me. Murderer!"

A form appeared at the woman's left hand. Ikuko, Usagi's mother. "Murderer."

At the right, Kenji, her father. "Murderer."

Shingo materialized in front over, his chest a dark gaping hole. "Murderer!" he accused, his young voice shrill and angry.

Usagi backed away, shaking her head, desperately denying their words.

A hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around. The redheaded man who had shot Shingo. The katana was still embedded deep within him. "Murderer!" he spat.

Usagi screamed, trying to wrench her hands from the handle of the blade, but they refused to budge, stuck as though glued.

"Murderer!" a chorus of voices condemned her.

"Kill her now," the woman ordered negligently.

Mamoru appeared before her, holding a long heavy sword over her head.

"Mamo-chan?"

His eyes were dark and detached. "Murderer," he charged her. The sword swept downward.

Screams began in her head.

Usagi snapped awake, biting her lip to remain silent. Sweat rolled down her neck and under the collar of her shirt.

"Usagi-chan, are you all right? Usagi-chan?"

She jerked to attention. Grinning reassuringly, she responded cheerfully, "Of course, Ami-chan."

Ami gave her one strange, searching look before returning her focus to Haruna-sensei who was now lecturing about adverbial clauses in English. Usagi relaxed in muted relief.

Sighing unhappily at the disruption in her sleep that the dream had caused, Usagi laid her head down again and closed her eyes.

For a moment, she thought she had reentered the dream from the point from which she had left it. Then she realized that the screaming had begun in the classroom.

Her eyes snapped open, her exhaustion falling away like a discarded blanket. Adrenaline surged through her, reviving her like a splash of cold water.

The classroom was chaos. Students were running, Haruna-sensei had already vanished through the door. Only Usagi noted that her four friends had dived through the window instead—presumably to transform and to call the others on their communicators.

Usagi remained in her seat, frozen and unsure. She could not help, not dressed as Odango Atama and bereft of her disguise. Yet, she could not bring herself to abandon them.

Soon the room was empty but for her and the youma.

"I am Sailor Venus!"

"Sailor Mercury!"

"Sailor Mars!"

The list of names continued. They had arrived—all nine of them.

Author's Notes: Hehe, are you excited for the next chapter or what? But don't worry, it's half-written, and it'll be up by the end of the first week of January. Happy New Year! I'll see you soon. And remember to review, I (and my stories) thrive on it ^_^ Ja ne!


	9. Fire and Fights

**DISCLAIMER: Sailor Moon and other characters belong to Naoko Takeuchi, Cartoon Network, etc. None of these characters belong to me. ** 

Author's Notes: Hehe, here it is. This is my big fight scene, and I'm quite proud of it. So for all of you action fans out there, I hope you like it! Enjoy, minna-chan!

Rating: PG

******************* 

"Not the glittering weapon fights the fight, but rather the hero's heart."

~ Proverb ~

Silver Eyes  

by: The Silver Princess 

They stood arrayed before the youma, their brightly colored fukus contrasting to the dark youma. Usagi remained motionless in her seat, watching the opponents with apprehension, waiting to see how the fight would fall. The youma was small for its kind, man-shaped, and brawny; rather like a tall bodybuilder, and its skin was black and crackly like burnt cardboard, veined with scorching red. The features of its face were obscured by a sheet of fire that seemed to serve as its eyes.

The senshi moved first, spreading out to encircle and flank the youma. Usagi noticed a flicker of annoyance and concern in Tuxedo Kamen's eyes when he noted Usagi at her desk. She started before her mind supplied the logical reason. Of course, fear for innocent bystanders—and as Odango Atama, she would be doubly likely to panic and ruin everything. Usagi carefully adjusted herself so that she appeared petrified with terror. Her blue eyes widened, and her chin trembled with repressed sobs. When Jupiter, lightning wreathing her head like a crown, moved to engage the youma, Usagi slipped from her seat and crept to the back of the room, pressing her back to the wall. Worrying her friends would only hinder their efforts in the battle.

Bright waves of magic filled the room. Neptune sent a wave of power into Uranus's Space Sword, energizing it with the power of two senshi. Uranus ran forward and swung, twirled and jabbed.

"Uranus, down!"

The sandy-haired senshi backrolled away barely missing Venus's golden whip as it lashed forward to wrap around the youma. It howled as it found its arms pinned to its sides. In quick succession came a series of attacks, followed by a barrage of steel-tipped roses.

The whip finally gave under the youma's struggles, crackling back into Venus's hold.

What the youma lacked in size, it seemed to make up for in durability. Despite the bombardment of attacks from so many, it was unfazed, though the fireball that was it face roared in anger.

Its meaty arms opened wide and then punched forward. Flames licked over its palms and then spread, shooting forward.

"Everyone, duck!" Pluto cried.

The senshi dropped to the floor, intending that the fire should rush over them, leaving them unhurt.

Usagi could only watch and cry out as the raging fire spread, widened until it reached from floor to ceiling. They would be incinerated! Her gut twisted, and her limbs nearly moved of their own accord. They would all die!

But the flames stopped just in front of them then flickered around, spreading. It raced throughout the room, enclosing the senshi within walls of impenetrable flame. They were trapped.

Booming laughter emanated from the youma, who was clearly delighted to have finally bested the mighty senshi. 

Usagi stepped forward, hesitated, her stomach roiling with uncertainty.

Over the roar of the fire, she could hear the senshi massing their attacks to break through the walls but to no avail. Even Pluto's commanding voice failed to yield the tiniest gap.

Usagi gasped as the fires suddenly seemed to disappear. They had broken free, she exulted for a moment. Matte, no, she frowned. The senshi were making no movement to renew the battle; they were still caged, warily watching the youma who had trapped them. The flames had merely turned transparent. The youma began to swagger, pacing before the senshi, and taunting them. He particularly enjoyed goading Mars who nursed an angry red burn on her arm.

"Fight fire with fire? You're just a candleflame!"

She shrieked in fury and moved to throw herself at the youma, only to be restrained by Venus.

Usagi wished futilely that she hadn't come to school. Then perhaps she could have shown up in disguise to help.

"You'll never win," Tuxedo Kamen's calm, certain voice informed the youma.

Usagi was breathing hard, struggling within herself. They were the senshi; surely, they would free themselves. Any moment now.

"You bastard! There won't even be enough of you to make dust!" Uranus threatened.

Usagi clenched her hands. Why weren't they free yet? They could defeat a mere youma any day. She took another hesitant step forward. Everything was very vague and confused; she could scarcely understand the words they were shouting at each other. They wouldn't give in this easily. She stared at them, not really seeing anything for a moment, torn within herself.

"Enough! You bore me! My master will be pleased to be rid of you!" the youma growled. It raised its arms, and its fiery face began to spread over its head, dancing down its shoulders, racing to engulf its arms. It was powering up to deliver its killing attack.

The blood drained from Usagi's face as the youma suddenly came it to razor-sharp focus. The fire flickered over its head like brilliant red hair. Terror washed over her as her mind superimposed the image of Shingo's killer and that first youma over the one standing before her. Everything from mind faded except for the fact that it was going to kill the senshi. Nothing else mattered.

"IIIIIEEE!" she screamed as her body leapt into action, charging straight towards it. "I won't let you kill any more people that I love!"

She ducked her head down below the level of the fire that consumed its upper body. Her shoulder hit it at waist level, and she wrapped her arms tightly around its body, tackling it to the ground.

"Usagi-chan!" She could vaguely hear the senshi shouting her name, begging her to run. "She'll be killed! She'll be killed!" one of them was screaming. "Get out of here, Odango!"

The youma grabbed her by the forearms, igniting the sleeves of her shirt, and tossed her against the firewall.

Flames burned against her, singeing the back of her neck. She dove away from the fire and ripped her shirt from her body before the flames could light fire to her sports bra or her skin. Nothing mattered to her but stopping the youma that threatened those ones she loved. She rolled to her feet, and in the back of her mind, she wished she had not worn a skirt that day.

Muscles rippled beneath the skin of her abdomen in taut anticipation. She darted forward, ducking and bobbing to keep the youma off guard. Its flames receded as it flexed in preparation. Her mind settled into calmness, clearheaded focus. Within this tiny room, against this one opponent, it was like returning to a martial arts class. She bared her teeth in a cruel smile. She knew how to do this in her sleep. This youma would not hurt her loved ones while she was there. Her breathing evened out as her body shifted comfortably into fighting mode.

Usagi swung her foot up high, her heel catching it in the chin. It recoiled as she fell backwards, taken aback by the lack of give in its hard jaw. She twisted into a back flip, landing neatly.

It came after her now, angry that she had scored a hit. She skillfully blocked punch after punch, jab after jab. She managed to check the worst of the attack, but it did land some powerfully painful punches and it was driving her backwards. If she didn't do something, it would drive her into the firewall again. Its fist came at her again. This time she sidestepped, grabbed its arm, and used its momentum to send it stumbling past her. It skidded to a stop and turned to face her. But she was no longer there. Her leg swung around like a whip, her foot jarring into its ribcage. It staggered sideways and then answered with a roundhouse kick. She countered with a jab to the kidneys.

They broke apart, circling. Her feet glided over the floor, barely making a whisper. The voices of the senshi were quiet now, discussing, but she shuffled the noise to the back of her mind. The pains of the hits the youma had landed throbbed from far away; the hurts were unimportant right now, and she had no attention to give them. The youma crouched down and then rolled forward, intending to knock her from her feet. She jumped over it as it rolled at her and then pivoted to face it. Shimmata, her back was to the wall of flames again.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could Haruna-sensei's desk, stacked high with papers, staplers, and other school supplies. Her eyes lit up.

The youma charged, its arms flying. Usagi blocked the flurry of attacks, desperately seeking an opening. There! She ducked beneath its arm and then shot out her leg like a piston. Her foot collided with its spine, and it toppled over forward. Not much time, but enough. She spun, keeping her foot high, and then brought it down, smashing into the paper cutter.

Wood splintered with crack, trapping her foot. She swore, and the floor shook as the youma righted itself and thundered towards her unprotected side.

She bent her knees and then sprang, agilely cartwheeling over the desk. The youma's fingers grazed against her upper back. She swept her leg sideways, carrying the broken paper cutter with her foot.

She shrieked suddenly as the youma caught hold of her pigtail and yanked. She flicked her foot, and her hand caught hold of the paper cutter's handle. She wrenched it from its weakened bolts and then with one smooth movement sliced upward through her hair. The youma was left holding a long clump of golden hair.

She was armed now. She slashed the air with her makeshift blade, getting a feel for its balance.

The desk was between them now. They circled again.

Crash!

The youma bellowed, barreling its way through the desk to reach her. She jumped forward, kicking her legs at it while it was hampered by the twisted wood and metal.

A thick hand reached up and grabbed Usagi's thigh, plucking her from the air like a bug and flinging against the wall with horrible strength. Her breath escaped her lungs as she coughed. Her ribs ached.

Then the youma was on top of her, snatching the improvised blade from her hand. She struggled but its weight was too much. She was pinned helplessly. Flames licked at her face, scorching her hair. The blade pressed against her neck, the metal hot and burning. She wheezed as she tried to twist away from the blade that was about to break her skin.

Roaring laughter thundered in her ears as a burst of heated breath blasted at her face.

Usagi winced and cried out. Tears streamed from her eyes as she whimpered. She was good at playing her part—she had been playacting for so long now. The youma laughed again, completely duped by her pretense. She freed her arm from it, and then formed a circle. Her hand collided with its wrist, knocking the blade from its hand. It skittered away across the floor.

Distracted by the loss of its weapon, it shifted its weight as though to move to reclaim it. Bringing all her strength to the fore, she attacked with a quick jolt between its knees. Lightning quick, she nimbly twisted, and then she had the youma pinned below her.

It bucked angrily, nearly tossing her off like a ragdoll. She clung tenaciously, fighting to keep it incapacitated. Finally, she elbowed it and even before its head finished snapping back, she had backflipped away.

Hands, feet, hands, feet.

She flipped her way towards the abandoned blade as the youma ran after her lithe form, its fists swinging, just missing her belly. Her hand closed on the handle of the blade and she came out of her flips, bringing the blade up to meet the youma a second later.

Usagi sidestepped and spun, holding her blade out to slash at the youma as she came around.

There was a sudden freezing, a sudden silence, as her weapon met with resistance before sinking into flesh. The youma stared uncomprehendingly at its half-severed neck. No one spoke.

Usagi's eyes narrowed furiously. "That's for trying to kill people I love," she spat. She yanked the blade from the neck and then hacked at it again. Her blade dug deeper into the neck. With a furious yell, she repeated her attack, and then the youma's head parted from it s body and thudded down against the floor. The youma's body collapsed weakly. 

Usagi kicked the head away, unsure if it somehow could be reattached. Breathing hard and sweating from her match, she dropped the impromptu weapon. It clattered to the floor as she backed away. The sheen of sweat glistening over her skin was beginning to chill her now that the flames caging the senshi had dissolved. She shivered and then groaned: her injuries that she had ignored were now screaming with agony. She was going to be a massive bruise tomorrow. She carefully lowered herself to the floor, leaning against the wall. She had never defeated a youma by herself like that without any help. Her chest heaved as she her heart rate slowly subsided.

She closed her eyes, the protectiveness and battle-calm that had sustained her dissipating leaving only shakiness.

She noted a flash of brightness from behind her eyelids. One of the senshi must have incinerated the body to ensure that it was no longer a threat.

After a few seconds, she felt well enough, her trained muscles already resiliently ready for her next series of exertions. She shook her head; she had worked herself harder than this during her workouts.

For a moment, she caught herself thinking that she must get to her motorcycle and head home before she remembered where she was…and how she was dressed. She froze—the senshi had just seen Odango Atama, the daytime identity she had cultivated so diligently, defeat a youma single-handedly. The masquerade was over; her disguise was ruined.

Usagi opened her eyes to find them all staring at her.

A/N: Yeah! I love that scene! I hope you guys liked it also. I know some of you wanted her to remain secret, but stories take on a life of their own and I've had this revelation of her identity in mind for a while.

Well, you all are just going to tear your hair out at the cliffhanger, ne? Gomen nasai because it'll be quite awhile before the next installment is out; school is starting again. Well, review, review—motivate me to write faster! Aren't I horrible, blackmailing you like this? *Shrug* Ja ne, minna-chan!


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